Devils and Dust
by District11-Olive
Summary: "I have heard of the end of this war, but without the right... treatment what will halt others from trying to achieve their goal once more after they have been allowed to recuperate? Simply beating them will never be enough, you of all people should be able to understand that." Welcome to the 1st Hunger Games!
1. Fear Part One

**Devils and Dust by Bruce Springsteen**

_I got my finger on the trigger  
But I don't know who to trust._

* * *

**President Albinus Snow**

* * *

I let the phone drop from my fingertips, my entire body shaking with the shock of what I have just said. _Drop the bombs_. Words that I knew were likely to be necessary, but yet had somehow thought I would be able to avoid. _Drop the bombs_.

And yet through the pain of what I have ordered my troops to do, I can feel this sense of great relief. The rebels have no means that any of my spies have been able to find that would allow them to come back from this. Their entire base was in District Thirteen, there is nothing left for them to do to continue this battle. The war is finally over, and we have won.

I rub the dry skin of my cheeks, allowing myself for a moment to drown in the regret of doing what I know I had no other choice but to do. All those people, my most trusted spies told me there were tens of thousands of them, all working for a cause. Brainwashed against the Capitol that has kept them safe and prosperous for so long. I want to, nay I need to, be able to damn them all for betraying their mother nation, but not all of them were to blame. The children that I saw video footage of, fighting for a war that they had no way of winning. Dying for a cause that they could not possibly understand. For a moment I mourn these children because they are not to blame for this. No, it was their parents and grandparents and leaders. The ones who deserve to die for the cause that would never be won.

I shut off my computer and begin to pack all of my files into the safe I keep under my desk, deciding that I am more than done for the day. It's nearly nine o'clock at night, maybe when I get back upstairs my daughter will still be awake. She just turned eight last week, but we were unable to celebrate properly like last year. My heart broke every time she asked about when her party would be because her friends were asking. She knows as little about everything that has been happening for the past ten months as I have been able to tell her to keep her happy. Esme always has been so interested in my job, but this is far too much for a little girl to handle.

What would she think of me if she knew the decision I made tonight? That perhaps tens of thousands of people were dead or dying, and I can't think about what percentage of that might have been around her age. I block the thought from my mind, knowing full well that I will be able to let all my emotions out later tonight. My wife has always been good at allowing me that stress relief. I couldn't ask for anyone better than my Vinia.

I am just about to reach out to unlock my office door when a quiet knock comes from the other side. I glance again at the clock, remembering a moment later that I had asked my assistant, Claudia, to stay later this evening to finish the statement that would be released tomorrow morning regarding the war situation.

When I open the door she looks surprised to see me away from my desk, I shake my head and she smiles as I invite her in. Claudia has been my right hand since my father passed down the presidency over twenty years ago, and she hasn't let up on me since, always making sure I am reminded of important meetings several times beforehand.

She shakes her head when I try to usher her in, instead closing the door behind her. Her tone is strict and low. "There is someone here to see you."

"At this hour?" I ask. Anyone that I can think of visiting me at this time of night is currently flying over District Thirteen along with the battle jets. Not only that, but normally when Claudia recognizes someone she pages me and lets me know they are here. It has been ages since she has actually came and gotten me. "Who is it?"

"I'm not sure, sir," she says quietly. "She would not tell me her name, only that she claims to have a solution to the problem."

When I give her another puzzled look she continues. "I've tried asking her to make an appointment, but she is insistent. I could call security if you want."

"No, let her come," I say though I am unsure why exactly. I have always tried to keep as much of an open door policy as I possibly could without putting myself in danger, and if the woman looked dangerous I am certain that Claudia would have already had her removed from the premises.

"I'll call in a security officer to search her first," Claudia says before leaving. I can still hear the click of her shoes from outside the door. I flick the lights back on and roll a chair to sit in front of my desk before taking my chair behind it. This entire thing is as enticing as it is nerve-wrecking.

It is several minutes before I hear the door open again. When it does I see a frail woman walk in, her body covered almost completely in dirtied fabrics and wraps. She walks with a hobble but her face does not show any sort of pain. She is not at all what I expected to walk into my office. Normally when one pays an important visit to the President of Panem, one dressed for the occasion. If anything I am more intrigued to hear her reason for coming than before.

"Good evening, ma'am," I acknowledge her and motion towards an empty chair. She takes the seat silently, a smile that almost appears too kind spread across her lips. "To what do I owe this late visit?"

She only looks at me for the longest time, but I force myself to hold her gaze no matter the discomfort I feel. Perhaps I should have called security after all. "Albinus Snow."

When she finally speaks her voice is low and raspy, as if it has not been properly exercised in months or even years. The fact that she addresses me by my full name is almost alarming, the only person to call me by my given name over the last few years has been my Vinia.

"That is I."

"I think it is clear why I am here," she says in a much warmer tone, reminding me somewhat of my own grandmother for a moment.

"I'm afraid it isn't quite so clear to me, ma'am," I say honestly, hoping that this admission is enough to urge her to tell me for herself.

"Ah of course," she smiles to herself. I consider that she may be just toying with me for a second but dismiss the thought. If she was looking to waste someone's time she would likely do so to someone else, for to do so to a president could have potentially lethal consequences. "I have the solution to your problem."

"Which one?" I laugh, attempting to bring some humour into the rather sombre mood of the room.

"The problem of the end of the war."

I am taken aback that she knows of the end of the war that quite literally only happened minutes ago. I guess it is possible that a news team has already heard the story and has had it aired on their network. That must be it. "I do not mean to be direct, but I do not see the end of a war as being a problem at all."

"Of course it is," she says, the smile still remaining as distinct as before on her face. "This will not be the end of the war without a solution. Without my solution, Albinus."

"Please explain," I swallow hard at her words. What could she possibly mean that the war is not yet over? I cannot do anything more to put an end to this than what I have already done. I keep my hand hovering above the emergency button on the inside of my desk. Something about this situation does not sit well with me and yet one small piece of me is not completely against hearing what this woman could possibly mean. "You are aware of the end of the war, you have already said that."

"Yes of course," she smiles. "I have heard of the end of this war, but without the right... treatment what will halt others from trying to achieve their goal once more after they have been allowed to recuperate? Simply beating them will never be enough, you of all people should be able to understand that."

My fingers drop from the button. She, of course, is correct. How did I not consider this probability? Of course the districts will seek revenge for the destruction of a large part of their population eventually. They will know what they are up against next time. It will be a more difficult war, with more bloodshed quite likely. How many cycles will it take before the Capitol is unable to control the districts and they finally get what they seek?

"I can see that my words have made an impression," the woman nods. "I had hoped you would see reason."

"I like to consider all possibilities brought forth by my people," I do my best to keep up a slight air of superiority even now, I guess it is simply ingrained into me to do so. Even as my mind if racing at a million miles an hour I will not allow myself to agree to things out of fear. "What do you suggest?"

"I had hoped you would ask that," she says and her smile widens. She moves the one side of her cloak and pulls a small, yellowed envelope out of it. She slides it across the table, where it leaves a faint streak of dirt on the white marble. Without a second thought I grab the envelope as soon as her fingers leave it. My eyes graze across the neat printing on the front of it.

"The Hunger Games?" I ask, the words seeming rather strange strung together into a title like this. "What does that mean?"

"You will understand when you read it," she says simply, hoisting herself out of the chair and starting to make her way to the door. "Do what you must with the information I have given you, but I ask that you please leave my name out of this."

"I don't know your name, ma'am," I say, my confusion growing as I struggle to make sense of any of this.

"Oh," she chuckles and as she walks out the door I can hear her still laughing quietly to herself, though what is so funny has passed over me completely. "Oh yes, that is true."

**Song: Devils and Dust by Bruce Springsteen**

* * *

**A/N: You're probably all a tad bit confused since I just started a collaboration a couple months ago, but yes I am starting another SYOT. Since I have gotten pretty far ahead with all of my chapters for that, and I don't really want to stop writing at all right now, I figured that I may as well. **

**This prologue takes place before the establishment of the Hunger Games, just as the war has ended. This story will be very different from any of my other ones as it will be the very first Hunger Games. **

**I will let you all know right now that this story will be very different from how the Hunger Games are portrayed in the movie and book. The reason for this is because I picture the first few years being somewhat of a trial period, where they are still working out the format of the Hunger Games. Be warned, there will be a lot of things that are different, basically.**

**I hope as many of you as possible will consider submitting anyways! Here are some guidelines if you decide to do so.**

**\- Since this is the first Hunger Games, there are no Careers.**

**\- Tributes are ages 12-18, two per district as usual.**

**\- Districts have just come out of war, so the industries are less important than the war in the case of jobs and such. **

**\- Do NOT send a tribute that was at the bombing of Thirteen and survived. EVERYONE who was there died. Everyone. **

**\- There is no tesserae, and every age has the same likelihood of being chosen (everyone only has one slip).**

**\- Orphans are okay, since there was just a huge war and such, but please don't overdo it with the sad stories. I do want some kids that might have been very uninvolved in the war and/or kept both their parents.**

**DEADLINE: January 14th, 2014**

* * *

**If you have any questions about anything else feel free to message me. I love helping out with ideas and such, and would love to help get you on a good track. **

**Other than that,**

**Welcome to **_**Devils and Dust! **_


	2. Fear Part Two

**Devils and Dust by Bruce Springsteen**

_Fear's a dangerous thing  
It can turn your heart black you can trust_

* * *

_The rebellion is strong with the people of the districts. They are ungrateful for what their mother nation has brought them to, as the lowest class citizens always have been. _

_Since the beginning of even the earliest settlements, this has always been a fact. No matter the prestige or success of a nation, there will always be those who are unsatisfied with what they have been gifted. Even before the wars that created our great nation of Panem, our ancestors have fought amongst one another for power. The ones who lived under the protection of the government always sought to overcome their limits. The ones who lived as part of the government always sought to keep their positions, most times out of fear of what would become of the nation should a revolution be successful. _

_There have been countless times in history where the choice has been left with those who are in power. If they are not willing to do what is necessary to keep peace and prosperity in their nation, then the nation will fall. When leaders are not able to do what they must, there will always be someone else who is willing. It is those times where the revolutionary wants the power more that the nation falls, when the country's leader is too weak to keep them in line. _

_And so the time has come where Panem is forced to ask the historical question- Is my leader willing to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. The people of Panem do not want a war, they have lived in one for far too many years. They do not want the constant reign of fear and sadness that has controlled them for so long. They look to their leader for peace. They look to the father of their nation to protect them from wartime. _

_We have come to you in hopes that you will not be the one to allow our great nation to be purged into despair for another moment. We have come to you in hopes that you will be the one to lead us away from this age of terror and into a new age of prosperity. We come to you with high praise but even more so we come to you with the solution that you need. _

_We come from a society that has dedicated itself to the study of history, and more importantly to the study of the mistakes that have befallen our ancestors in the past. The solution we have brought forth for you is not a simple one, and does not come without sacrifice, but we have great faith that you will do what is right for the nation your have sworn to serve and protect. _

_The conclusion that many of us has drawn is one that we trust you yourself have considered at some point in this dreadful wartime. The years that this Capitol has suffered in have taken their toll on our great people. The years that are to come will be difficult as our people fight their way back onto their feet and do away with the ill memories that will plague them from the images that have had to bear witness to. _

_The fact that the district people are to blame for the suffering of these innocent people should not and cannot go unnoticed. Not only to satisfy the hunger that all of us cannot help but feel towards the rebels that have caused so much pain to us, but also for the wellbeing of the nation as a whole. _

_If it is known to the people that those that do ill upon Panem are able to simply slip away to once again make their plots against the government, then they will live in constant fear. Not on that, but it will give the rebels a sense of victory in this war they have forced upon us. To slip away unpunished shows that they are feared, and proves to them that there will at some point be a time where their cause will be successful. _

_To keep the order that we will begin to rebuild in the coming months, we must quell both the fears of our own great people and the hopes of our rebellious enemies. _

_But what are we to do to punish those that have already willingly given over their lives to an improbable cause? Merely mass killing them will accomplish nothing but kindling a fire in the hearts of their youth who will continue to bear the flag of their rebellion. To punish them, we must strip their entire population of their hope for a revolution. While there is no hope of quelling this fight in the older generations, there is still time to save the young ones from sharing their families' fates. _

_That is the solution we have come to the conclusion would be the most effective in tying up the loose ends that the war has left us with. To target the rebellious youth that have become tangled in this war, in the hopes that we can show them how truly selfish their parents were to force them into this terrible war. _

_One must break the bonds between the generations, so that the young ones can be saved. _

_So with remorse we present to you the solution to the problem that you will soon face. For months we have worked out the details of how it will be presented to the public, and how it will be enforced to the districts. _

_In penance for the sins of their parents and grandparents, each district will be told to offer up one young man and one young woman as tributes to participate in the event. In representation of the wartime, each of the tributes will enter an arena where they will fight amongst each other as a showcase of how the districts' ruined themselves through the rebellion. In discussion, this event was given the name of 'The Hunger Games'. The fighting will cease when only one tribute is remaining, a lone symbol of the kindness and forgiveness that the Capitol holds for its colonies. _

_This lone victor will be welcomed into the highest ranks of the Capitol, with all of the wealth and fame they could ever need or desire. In doing this we will show the districts that not only are we forgiving, but we also care for those that follow our wishes. The single tribute that remains will be the beacon of hope that the children of the districts can aspire to be. In knowing that with obedience comes fortune and fame, we will save the young generation from becoming like their savage ancestors. _

_The nation will once again rest in peace and prosperity as long as this event will continue. So long as the newest generations are reminded of the mistakes of their ancestors as well as the rewards that will come to them should they allow their mother nation to protect them, this country will never again know the suffering that comes with civil war. _

_We very much hope you will consider our modest proposal. _

_The people of the Capitol should not be scared any longer._

* * *

**Song: Devils and Dust by Bruce Springsteen**

* * *

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed my somewhat unorthodox second prologue. If you haven't figured it out yet, this is the letter that was in the envelope that was handed to President Albinus Snow by the woman from the first prologue. Hopefully I did a good enough job of showing how I've interpreted the Hunger Games coming about by now... **

**Anyway, I guess you are all looking to see the tribute list and not just me rambling like I seem to do a lot. But before I get to revealing that, I want to say that the decisions that I have had to make have been very hard for me. I received a lot more tributes than I expected to and it was hard to decide between them all but I had to so don't hate me!**

**A few of you might notice some changes that were made to your tribute such as age, height/weight, faceclaim, etc. If it bothers you a lot let me know, but I tried my best to keep changes to a minimum.**

**Anyways, the list!**

* * *

**District One**

**Female- **_**Vera Hemley, 17**_

**Male- **_**Hollis Bale, 17**_

**District Two**

**Female- **_**Santana Belmont, 16**_

**Male- **_**Connor Leland, 18**_

**District Three**

**Female- **_**Jalissa Kessey, 18**_

**Male- **_**Danican Tobin, 16**_

**District Four**

**Female- **_**Caprice Neviere, 16**_

**Male- **_**Venice Durante, 18**_

**District Five**

**Female- **_**Dallas Audrinne, 17**_

**Male- **_**Adriel Maynard, 17**_

**District Six**

**Female- **_**Melita Crescent, 15**_

**Male- **_**Radimir Ankratij, 17**_

**District Seven**

**Female- **_**Merryn Celtey, 15**_

**Male- **_**Jonah Lintell, 16**_

**District Eight**

**Female- **_**Carina Ricter, 14**_

**Male- **_**Sampson Ellios, 15**_

**District Nine**

**Female- **_**Leina Rallis, 16**_

**Male- **_**Verden Arell, 16**_

**District Ten**

**Female- **_**Kyra Lacasse, 14**_

**Male- **_**August Overture, 17**_

**District Eleven**

**Female- **_**Eileen Garreti, 17**_

**Male- **_**Harlan Pearce, 12**_

**District Twelve**

**Female- **_**Ariella Saville, 14**_

**Male- **_**Flint Calloway, 14**_

* * *

**So congratulations if you tribute was accepted and I am very sorry if they weren't! I will be beginning with new chapters for the story very soon so stay tuned!**


	3. Reality

**Stalemate by Enter Shikari**

_I'm losing my grip on reality,  
I cannot simply agree that we are civilized._

* * *

**Pre Reapings Part One**

* * *

**Leina Rallis, 16, District Nine Female**

* * *

I groan as I roll onto my stomach, the sun pushing through the curtains and onto my face. The startled sound of my cat crying out as she is pushed onto the floor wakes me from my half-sleep and I am completely awake. I look down at the base of my bed and see Tito staring up at me with about as angry an expression as a cat can make.

"Sorry Tito," I giggle and he meows back up at me. I stretch out and pick him up off the floor, situating him back on my chest where he usually lays. I pet him for a few minutes before he gets up and scurries off towards the window sill. I guess that is my sign that it's time to get up.

I stifle a yawn as I follow Tito out of bed, picking up a beige dress from the top of my dresser that looks clean enough and dropping my pyjamas to the floor. I kick them underneath my bed and pull on some socks and a pair of clean boots before making my way downstairs.

The coffee mugs drying in the dish rack tell me that my parents have already headed out with the morning shift workers. I would have honestly been surprised to have seen them still here. They work harder than anyone I know, even on the days they schedule themselves 'off'. I notice a bowl covering a plate and my stomach reminds me with a loud groan that it's time for breakfast.

I smile when I lift up the bowl and see a couple of cold waffles sitting on the plate. I had been hoping that mom didn't forget about the tradition, even after the limits put on by the war made it impossible for her to make waffles on Sundays like she always did when I was little. It's been just under six months since the war was won, but food limits have persisted until just a few weeks ago.

I open the oven and drop the plate in, turning the heat on just enough to warm it up. As I wait, I shuffle through the various bottles in the pantry and find a half-empty bottle of syrup. I excitedly pull my meal out of the oven, deciding that I can't wait anymore, and sit down to eat my somewhat-cold waffles.

After I clean up the dishes I decide that it's probably a bit past the time when I should have joined my parents and the other workers in the fields. They always said it was fine if I joined them a little later, but I hate to let them work short-handed. Since the war ended and so many people needed jobs, we have had more workers than ever but I still hate to leave them hanging when I am supposed to be on shift.

I try my best not to slam the door behind me, but the rickety hinges don't make that very easy to do. I can see a bunch of bobbing heads just by standing on my porch, but they're far enough away that I can't tell who is who. Remembering the hot weather, I pull a hat off of one of the hooks and slap it on. I already have a bit of a blush sunburn, and mom has always told me that sunburns cause wrinkles so I would like to keep that to a minimum.

The dirt is dry under my feet as I walk down the path towards where the other workers are, meaning that I'll probably have to pull out the hose at some point today and water a few sections of the grain fields. As I get closer to them I can hear my mom call out to me.

"Leina! I need you to go to the Hildings' and ask if they have any more of the scythes we bought from them last month! Two of them broke when we hauled them out this morning!"

"Okay mom, I'll be back quick!" I yell back at her and turn around on the path towards my neighbour's house. The Hildings are good friends of my parents and their youngest child, Kyra, also happens to be my best friend. Mom could have gone over herself but I think she knows I love visiting Kyra.

It's only a fifteen or twenty minute walk to the Hildings' house, and I am all but skipping the entire way. I haven't seen Kyra for almost a week since school started up again. The council decided that it was best to keep children at home for their safety, especially after the first bombing, but school has been back for a couple months now. I decided that I didn't have any more use for school so I didn't go back, but I know Kyra loves it there. It's just terrible that I hardly see her anymore, it almost makes me wish the war didn't end.

I knock loudly on the door and it's only a minute or so before Mrs. Hilding answers. "Hello Mrs. Hilding, my mom wanted to know if you had any more of the scythes you sold us a while back."

"Oh what a pleasant surprise, Leina!" She smiles, pulling me inside. "Kyra! Leina's here!"

I can't contain the smile on my face when Kyra comes running down the stairs from her bedroom. "Leina!"

"Kyra!" I chirp back, enveloping my friend in a quick hug.

"Guess what?" She beams. "Oh never mind don't guess I'll just tell you. Scrat and Mila had their kittens!"

"No way, can I see them?" I say excitedly but Kyra is already pulling me up the stairs to her bedroom. I hope mom isn't waiting on me for the scythes, I can't help but think as we get to her room. Well if she is she can probably wait a little bit longer anyways.

* * *

**Hollis Bale, 17, District One Male**

* * *

"What have I told you, it's too dangerous to go out."

I stop in my tracks when I hear my mother's voice. I had reason to believe that she would still be in bed, where she tends to stay until the early afternoon hours. The end of the war has been difficult for her, and for me as well. It's not easy to be on the side that won as people around you are still unwilling to accept their loss. I don't blame her for wanting to stay indoors.

I sigh and turn to face her. She stands in the empty door frame with her arms crossed against her chest and her lips turned down in a scowl. "I'm sorry, mom. It's been months, though. It can't still be that terrible in town?"

"Of course it is, Hollis," she sighs, bringing her arms back down to her side and stepping over towards me. I brace myself and feel the familiar slap of skin against skin, turning my eyes to the floor. "Don't worry me like this, Hollis."

"I'm sorry, mom."

She grabs both sides of my face and forces me to look at her. Her eyes are puffy and tired, just like they've been since the day a rebel killed my father. I know she misses him, and I can't blame her for anything she does to me. I looked to my father more than anyone else in my life and she is the last thing I have to remind me of him. They used to be so happy together.

"You're going to make your father so proud, Hollis," she smiles and I automatically return the grin. "Seven months and finally, because of you, it's going to be like he is with us again."

I don't know what else to say so I just smile. Suddenly her face changes to an exaggerated expression of shock. "Don't you understand me?"

"I'm not sure I do?" I say honestly and she releases my face, instead taking my hands into hers and pulling them close to her chest.

"They killed your father, and in a couple weeks it'll be your chance to avenge him," she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. "For both of us. We're going to do this together. They're going to pay for what they did to your father. He was such a good man, he didn't deserve it."

"Of course he didn't, mom," I say. I'm not sure what she is saying still, but the prospect of bringing my father's spirit back is everything I have hoped for these past few months. Just one chance to do something to show those people that killed him. To show them that they didn't get away with it.

"You're going to volunteer," she whispers and suddenly I understand, or I think I do. I hope I'm wrong. "They're Reaping the rebels, but you're going to volunteer. They said that would be allowed. You're going to show them, Hollis. You'll be the one to show them that we were right all along. You'll prove it for you and for me. You'll prove it for your father."

I swallow hard before answering, the thought of finally doing something to get back at the rebels for what they did to my father being overridden by the shear amount of fear that I feel towards the Hunger Games. They were announced two weeks ago, but no one is really sure what they are. All I know is that I am in the eligible age range and twenty-three people are going to be killed. Finally I force myself to answer. "I'm scared."

Her face tenses up and I brace myself again. "You're not a coward. If there is one thing I didn't raise it's a coward. Your father did worse for you, he died for you Hollis. You are not going to die. They wouldn't let you, you are like them. Your family fought for the Capitol, Hollis. They would protect you."

"I'm not a coward," I say automatically as I process what she said. It makes sense, that they would want to kill the rebels not me. My family was hugely involved in the war, hell, my father fought the rebels on the forefront. They would have been told about us. If I volunteered, they wouldn't kill me. I would come back here just like mom says I will, only better because I will get to avenge my father.

"I know you're not," she says, her voice low and calming once again. "You're just like your father. He would be so proud if he could see you right now."

"D-do you think he's watching us right now," I whisper. It's something I have struggled with since hearing about his death. I want him to see me. I want him to know how much I love him and how much I am missing him. I don't know if I could stand to hear that he doesn't know that I miss him.

"I don't know, Hollis," she whispers. "But if he is, I know he would be so proud."

* * *

**Adriel Maynard, 17, District Five Male**

* * *

"Adriel, I think it's time for bed."

I turn around and see Della standing in the door with a concerned look on her face. The weathered woman is always looking concerned about something whether it be Anya's laundry or Via's messy room. I sigh as I take a look at the clock, realizing that is its past three in the morning. I must have gotten distracted with my work again.

"Sorry Della, I'll take a nap when I get home from school," I shrug, looking back down at the sea of words and numbers that has taken over my page. I realize now just how exhausted I am, but sleeping is not an option right now. There is far too much planning to do when I have a business meeting with my older relatives two nights from now.

"If I ever believe that just put me out of my misery," she laughs and comes in, sitting herself down on the edge of my bed. I spin around in my chair to face her, swallowing a yawn before she can see it.

"I will, I promise," I try even though I know she won't buy it. Unlike most of the people in my family, unfortunately, Della really does seem to care for me. It doesn't bother anyone else that I miss meals or a few nights of sleep to work through not only my school assignments but also countless revisions of plans to go through with my relatives. They see it as me taking my family's legacy seriously, but all Della seems to see is that I am neglecting myself.

"Adriel," she sighs. "You've already earned the rights to take over the factories when you get older. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It's not healthy."

"Nothing's for sure, Della," I remind her. It was only a few years ago that it was going to be Anya that would take over the factories. Even though she is younger than me, at least she was born with the do-what-it-takes attitude. I had to learn it. I had to want it. And that is exactly what I did.

I was never a lazy kid, but I was too nice for my own good. Anya had the right attitude for the job, but I was able to learn to fake the attitude better than she could present it. Now it's natural, to look towards the next big thing and make sure I am the one to present it first. That isn't too difficult to do, however. Tori and Anya, my cousin and sister, will be great supervisors when they grow old enough but they never have been too apt at keeping their ideas to themselves.

"Believe me," she smiles. "You are for sure, honey. Now get some sleep."

"Just another half hour and I will," I mutter as I turn my chair back to face my desk. As tired as I am there just isn't the time to rest right now. With the war ending and everyone returning back to work it's the perfect time to implement a new system of part time work that will save the factories thousands. If I wait until tomorrow to finish my charts someone else might have thought of it too. I can't let anyone but myself be the one to show this genius to my parents.

"Alright, I'll come check on you then."

By the time Della closes the door I have already absorbed myself back into my plans, working out everything with perfect accuracy. My parents will accept nothing less. They wouldn't even look at anything that I come up with if it doesn't account for every possibility. I feel bad for lying to Della but I know I will not be going to sleep tonight.

I sit back in my chair for a second, the calculation of how many new employees each factory should take in to ensure maximum production and savings still running through my mind.

Sometimes, especially on the nights where everyone in my house is asleep and I am still awake into the late morning, I wonder what would have happened if I decided I didn't want to be the one to take over the business. Being the best has been the first thing on my mind since I began spending time with my parents at the factories, about age ten. What was it like before that?

I was just a regular kid. I had friends still. People liked me and not just for the powerful man I would be someday. Sometimes I miss it, but I imagine that if I went back in time and was given the chance to start over I would have followed exactly the same path. It's a lonely existence but it's the only one for me.

I get up and lock the door, saying a silent apology to Della. I know she will keep true to her word to check on me in a little while, but I just cannot afford the distractions right now. There is so much to do. I had hoped to be further along by tonight but a few of the figures threw me for a bit of a loop. It's nothing I can't work through but I think it'll be a fairly sleepless couple days until I finish.

I turn off the overhead light and up the brightness of my desk light. I'm sure Della will be able to see the light anyways, but maybe she will overlook it if I go to the effort to hide that I am still awake. Della pretends not to understand the implications of how precariously I am sitting within the future of the factories, but I know she does. This is my future and I've put too much into it to simply give up now. She has to understand that.

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**Song: Stalemate by Enter Shakari.**

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**A/N: Hey everyone! If you haven't already noticed, the format of this story is pretty different from all the others I have written. There will be eight, count 'em, eight Pre-Reaping chapters followed by nine chapters of 'Capitol'. Each tribute will get two POVs before the arena, basically. **

**Hope you enjoyed these three tributes! Let me know what you think of them (as well as general writing quality) if you have the time to do so.**

_**What do you think of these first three tributes?**_

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**I hope to update about twice a week depending on my school schedule. Hopefully at the very least weekly. Yeah so basically that is all fro this chapter, I will see you all in a few days with the next three tributes! **


	4. Rewritten

**Ashes In Your Mouth by Megadeth**

_Now we've rewritten history  
The one thing we've found out.  
Sweet taste of vindication  
It turns to ashes in your mouth._

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**Pre Reapings Part Two**

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**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

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"Dad?" I creep down the stairs that lead to the basement. The lights are off even though it is well into the morning and I know he will be awake by now. I exaggerate my steps so that he will be able to hear me coming, he never was one for surprises and that is even truer now. By the time I am at the bottom of the stairs I still have not gotten anything back from him and I start to worry.

"Dad?" I say a bit louder. I stop at the bottom of the stairs to listen and I hear nothing still. Panic sets in and I burst through the door that was built to separate the two floors. Mom had the lock removed, against what Dad told her about keeping it there 'just in case', so I don't need a key anymore.

The basement is dark and I shudder at the memory of spending so long down here. I let my eyes adjust so that I don't trip over anything. My dad has become notorious for leaving things around- says that it will protect us because intruders will trip and fall and he will hear them. We've long stopped arguing with him that there will not be any more intruders. His mind just doesn't seem to be able to get out of its wartime state and it's far too tiring to try anymore.

I step into the single bedroom that we created out of the furnace room a few months into the war. I almost don't see the shovel before it comes just inches from smacking into my face. Almost.

I throw both hands up and block the blow before it can reach me, biting the inside of my mouth as the pain echoes through me. Anticipating another hit, I take a step back and flick on the overhead light. "Dad! It's me."

My father's eyes are wide and panic-stricken, the bags under his eyes even more noticeable than the last time I saw him. He looks at me for several seconds before recognition and relief wash over him and he drops the makeshift weapon, coming at me with his arms open wide.

"Oh, oh, my dear I am sorry. I am so sorry." He strokes my hair and clings to me like a young child. I try for a second to wrap my arms around him to comfort him, but the gesture just doesn't feel right and I let my arms drop back down to my sides.

"It's fine," I say, pulling him off of me as gently as possible. Mom said that he just needed time and that he would snap out of, well out of whatever the hell is wrong with him. Every time I come down here he looks worse- either crying on the mattress or toying with something he found that almost looks like a surveillance camera. He's getting worse, there is no doubt in my mind about that one.

"You should stay down here where it's safe," he whispers, suddenly very serious. He does this often as well. I remember about two months after the war when he came upstairs one night. I thought he had finally come to his senses, but I was very wrong. He started insisting that Mom and I come back downstairs and wouldn't calm down until we did. He could have gotten us in trouble with the Peacekeepers. Nowadays they are looking for any reason they can find to arrest or whip citizens. Disturbing the peace would have been enough to land all of us a few lashings at least.

"It's safe upstairs, too." As soon as I say it I regret the words. His face contorts with fear and he grabs at the sleeves of my shirt, bringing his face so close to mine that I can smell his putrid breath.

"No, no. No it's not. Santana, the Capitol is coming for us." His body is shaking by now and I have to hold onto his arms to keep him steady as I begin to move him towards the mattress. "They're going to kill us. Not us if we stay down here where it's safe. Not us, not us. You'll be safe."

"Don't worry, we're safe," I say as I set him down on the mattress. I wish I felt worse for him. I know his mind is just stuck back in the time when we would sleep down here in fear of a Capitol bombing in the night. But it's over and he is a grown man. He is supposed to be the responsible one, not me. I try not to resent him for having to care for him, but it is hard to so that sometimes. I wish I could sympathize with him, but my emotions escape me once again. Just as they always do.

"Go get Mom," he whispers even as his eyes close. He must be really tired, it is not usually this easy for me to calm him down when he gets like this. "Bring her down here. She's not safe staying upstairs. The bombs-"

"I'll go get her," I say, cutting him off before he can go off on another tangent. "You just sleep and I'll bring her down here. We'll both be fine, just sleep."

He doesn't even answer me, his breathing steadying as he falls asleep. I pull a blanket down from his desk and place it over him. I'm relieved that this was as easy as it was. It is draining to deal with him sometimes.

I close the door as I go back upstairs and into reality. Coming down into the basement is sort of like a short escape- if you can even call it that- out of the real world. The world where a whole district of people is trying to rebuild after a defeat that was probably unavoidable from the very beginning.

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**August Overture, 17, District Ten**

* * *

It's back to the old ways that things used to happen before the war took over.

I look out on the huge field, a smile coming to my face when I remember playing in the bright grass everyday and Pop would prod the cattle towards the stable. The place looks so much different than it did back then.

Even after months of the war being over, my family has still only just begun to rebuild. We're only up to four cows when we used to have dozens. The grass is dead or dying in most of the areas- no matter what we do we can't seem to keep the grass blades from being strangled by the shrapnel. It's everywhere, these little pieces of metal. Well I'd bet if I dug my hand into the ground and picked up a handful of it I would see more debris than roots.

The war was tough in District Ten, people have said over the past few months. I don't know what it was like for any of the other districts but it was mighty scary here. Everyone lost so much, and I don't just mean cows.

People died. So many people. My father and oldest brother were among the thousands that were buried in the mass grave on one of the more destroyed parts of the district. There just wasn't enough ground to bury them all properly, so only the real important and wealthy people got that privilege. Even then, only when they could recognize the bodies.

Mom couldn't find the money for both of them, and she said it seemed wrong to just bury one of them specially. She said it was better that they were at least together, and that they wouldn't have wanted us to spend so much on them anyway. Elm says that she doesn't really mean that, and that she feels terrible about it, but she says she is fine and I don't think she would lie. All of us feel bad about it, she wouldn't even be the only one.

The ranch is so quiet, it's almost frightening. It reminds me too much of the raid, the one where I got separated from Pop. It was quiet before that too. I shudder at the memory and put my hat back on my head. When I am unable to shake the feeling I decide to go inside for lunch.

The house is a lot louder than the outside porch. We live in a small farmhouse that probably wasn't meant to be lived in by nine people, or I guess seven people now. The kitchen is nothing special, cooking stuff and a big old table in the middle with chairs squeezed all around it. My three sisters are sitting around the table, peeling potatoes that I hope will be lunch.

"August!"

"Hey August!"

"Where have you been all day?"

The three voices come all at once and they turn and smile at each other. I put my hands up in mock defence but am unable to keep the grin from spreading to my face as well "Hold on, hold on, one at a time."

Jubilee and Magnolia roll their eyes in perfect unison and Astrid raises an eyebrow at me. I throw them a wink and sit down at the table. "So what are you girls making for lunch?"

"Carrots, if you didn't notice," Astrid smirks and the twins giggle into their peelers. It takes me a second to understand what's so funny about carrots but then it clicks.

I pick up one of the potatoes and eye it closely. "This is a mighty big carrot, if I do say so."

"Mom's in the back room getting the big pot," Jubilee says a-matter-a-factly. "We're making stew."

"Sounds good to me," I grin. "I'm starving."

"How are you hungry already?" Magnolia shakes her head at me. "We had breakfast two hours ago."

"It's been two hours, that's how I'm hungry."

Her and Jubilee roll their eyes again. "Boys, I'll never understand how you eat so much. If you're hungry you better ask Mom for something. We haven't even started cooking and it'll be a while still."

As if on cue my mom walks into the room holding a huge, silver pot with both hands. She puts the pot down on the table and looks at me with her hands on her hips. "August you are going to eat us out of house and home one day, I swear."

"Hey, how'd you know I was hungry?" I say defensively. "Maybe I just came in here to say hi?"

"Nice try, honey," she chirps, plopping a handful of the cut potatoes into the pot. "These walls aren't as thick as you seem to think they are."

I turn my face away to hide my blush. She laughs, so I guess I don't do a very good job of covering it. "Lucky for you we have some leftovers in the fridge, but don't tell your brother. He's getting almost as bad as you about eating between meals, I swear."

I run up and hug her from the side and give her a quick kiss on the cheek and she smiles. A second later I am in front of the fridge, pulling out a little bowl full of last night's mushroom soup. I grab a spoon out of the top drawer and dig in.

Mom turns to me and smiles. "That can't possibly be any good cold."

"It's almost as good as yesterday," I grin, my lips closed as I swallow another mouthful. With the table full I decide to take my snack outside, after all it is my job to look after the cattle now.

* * *

**Melita Crescent, 15, District Six**

* * *

I hear the door close quietly and I want to laugh at the thought that Radimir thinks I am asleep. It's past midnight by now I am sure, but I don't feel tired at all. Radimir always sleeps well into the afternoon and I have gotten in the habit as well since I began living with him. I don't expect that I will be asleep for a few hours at least, but of course I'll pretend that I am when Radimir comes in after he's finished with his clients.

I know that he knows I am not stupid, so I don't quite understand why he always tries to be quiet when clients arrive after midnight. I know why they're here and I know what they're doing back there. It doesn't really bother me if I am being honest. Any way of making money is a good way of making money, especially after the war made it so difficult for most people to do it.

Ah the war. Now that's a memory that I haven't entertained in a while.

I shake my head to keep the thoughts from coming up, but of course they don't listen. When have they ever? I open my eyes are realize that I am holding onto the bed frame and when I take my hand off of it I can see the indentation marks. I never have been one to allow memories of the past to be in my present, but just because I don't let them into my mind doesn't mean they leave me alone.

Memories of the war are still as fresh in my mind as if they had happened just days ago, even when I know the war has been over for months. Almost all of them are bad- horrifying visions that make my stomach churn and my heart race. Somewhere in the mix of fear, grief, and hopelessness I manage to pull out the one memory that I can bring myself to cherish.

The day I met Radimir.

It was during the early stages of the war, just a month after I lost my mother between the crossfire of a rebel attack. I was living on the streets by then, only managing to get by with what I could take from other people even as the memory of my first whipping was still fresh in my mind. There was no choice, I had to live. I could have joined the rebel army, but the thought of supporting either side sickened me. I wasn't ready to die for a cause just so I could have a place to sleep or food to eat.

I can still remember the feeling of the boy's arm as it locked around my neck, the voice menacing as it spoke into my ears. The way my hands shook, not even stopping when I realized he wasn't going to hurt me because I really could never have been sure that he wouldn't. Being alone makes you think like that- that everyone is out to get you. It doesn't help when there is so much that you could be tried for.

It took many months after that before I moved in with Radimir. I learned about his business, even considering it for myself for a small while until I came to the conclusion that I would never be any good at it. My body had an automatic response to pull back from people; to shudder at any touch and to tense at any hint of connection.

Radimir never pushed me to get into the business. He probably knew that I wouldn't make very much money if every client left unhappy. Besides, I was a better pickpocket. I used to take money from his clients who would leave their bags unattended outside as they ventured into his room, but Radimir put a stop to that. Now I worked in fractions, it was easier to prevent myself from getting caught this way.

A fifth has always been the magic ration. For the richer clients, it would hardly be enough to make a difference to them, and for the poorer ones, well, I wasn't taking much anyway. The extra money is beyond helpful, especially now that Radimir has taken on a houseguest. We don't live in any sort of luxury, but we're not starving anymore. The end of the war has done wonders for business. People aren't scared to leave their houses or fearful of being robbed if they leave with enough money to buy themselves a good time.

The door creaks open and I hear the dreamy chattering of a woman as she gathers up her belongings, minus about sixty dollars or so. Radimir thanks her profusely, as he always does, and I can picture him taking her hand and pressing it to his lips as he encourages her to come back another time.

It used to disgust me to see him doing this. Trying to charm the women he brought home even after they had already paid for his services. I didn't understand the need, but he knows this business better than me. He's told me before that he is building up his hype, whatever that means. Basically he's trying to make repeat customers who tell their friends about how good he is. Frankly the idea of older, usually married women discussing things like this about my seventeen year old friend makes me want to be sick.

The back door slams shut and the apartment is silent again. He comes in faster than I had expected, and I don't have time to shut my eyes and continue the facade that I am asleep, but I try it anyway.

"I know you're awake," he chuckles as he lays down on the cot across from mine. I always wondered why he didn't sleep in the back room since it is so much nicer than the curtained off room he made when I moved in. I remember him saying something about feeling more comfortable in here, but it sounds pretty stupid if you ask me.

"What are you talking about," I whisper, opening on eye to see that he is already passed out on the cot. That has always been him, asleep before his head even hits the pillow. I sigh and close my eyes again. I guess it is getting pretty late.

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**Song: Ashes In Your Mouth by Megadeth.**

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**A/N: Hey all! Updates seem to be going pretty well so far. Shorter chapters generally mean speedier updates so that is a good thing. Hope you enjoyed these three tributes, and if they are yours I hope I did them justice!**

**Basically I am going to be asking the exact same questions probably every one of these chapters but here I go again anyway.**

_**What did you think of these three tributes? In comparison to the last three?**_

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**That's basically it, leave a review if you can spare the time? Should be updating in a few more days with the next three. **


	5. Monotony

**Spirit Breaker by August Burns Red**

_I will survive another month under gray skies.  
I'm holding on as a tight as I can.  
The monotony never seems to end._

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**Pre-Reapings Part Three**

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**Jonah Lintell, 16, District Seven**

* * *

"Hey, you! Get out of there!"

The voice wakes me from a light sleep and I am scrambling up out of the store entrance before my eyes are even fully open. The lantern that the man carries lights up the area in front of me and I book it out of there as fast as I can.

Once the light starts to fade I let myself slow down as I duck into a narrow alleyway. My chest floats up and down as I struggle to catch my breath, adrenaline rushing through my body as the realization hits me that I was almost caught again.

There are so many homeless people, especially teenagers, in District Seven that you would think they would lighten up on the laws forbidding us to sleep in public spaces, but to the contrary the punishments have only gotten more extreme. Just a couple days ago I saw a girl probably no more than a year older than me whipped for trying to take shelter from the rain in a store window.

I sink down to the cement ground and let myself relax again. It's late, or early I guess, probably around four or five in the morning judging by the fact that the sun still hasn't risen. That means I slept for less than four hours, but at least it's better than last night. Sleep has been hard to come by since I was evicted from my parents' house. It's not only that it is difficult to find the slightest bit of comfort on the cold nights, but the strict rules that street people have to abide by makes me feel more like an animal than a person. I'm always running away from things.

If only the house wouldn't have been so expensive. Maybe then I would have been able to keep it for more than a few months after they died. We rented it from one of the wealthier families, but we were well off ourselves. I just wish we could have owned it ourselves, or even just spent a little less money every month. I wouldn't be out here, then. I at least wouldn't be afraid of being whipped or beaten for falling asleep if I had a home to do it in.

This has been my life for four months now. Running, scavenging, and just plain surviving in a district that I can't even pretend to think wants me alive anymore. The bombing left so many teenagers out in the streets where we are no use to anyone anymore. At least during the war we could be taken in by a rebel force that needed soldiers. Now we're just nothing but walking reminders of the war that no one wants to even look at.

The bombing happened two months before the official end of the war. The Capitol came in with fighter jets and just went to town, dropping the things on anything that looked somewhat important. Several stores were hit, the Justice Building, a few houses even, but the worst was the work huts. No one expected the Capitol to bother with the tiny shelters that were only big enough to hold a few trees worth of wood. People took up shelter in them, it seemed safe at the time. I felt safe in one, crouching on the ground between my father and my older sister.

They destroyed every last one of the huts and nearly everyone that was hiding within them. I was the only one that was still alive when I was pulled out of the rubble. Out of the thirteen people in my hut there was only one person left and unfortunately it was me.

I lived in my parents' house for four months after that until they had to evict me. I didn't have any money and everything my parents had had been given to the war effort. How many people have I heard the same story from? A few dozen at least. Their families were killed in the same bombing as mine were and they couldn't afford their home, so here they were on the streets with no one to notice and no one to care.

"Jonah is that you?"

I jump at the sudden voice and I am on my feet a second later. At first I see no one, but then a greasy brunette pokes her head into the alley in front of me. My brows furrow for a moment as I struggle to try and recognize her, but then it comes to me. "Sadie?"

"Jonah, oh my goodness," she jumps right into the narrow alley and envelops me in a tight hug. "Where have you- oh my goodness. I thought-"

She interrupts her own voice as she leans in to hug me again, even tighter this time. I have no idea what to say. I haven't seen Sadie since the very beginning of the war, when things still looked good for the rebels and my family was still alive.

"Where have you been?" She asks finally.

"You know," I shrug. "Around."

"That's so good to hear, you have no idea," she smiles. "What are you doing out here so early?"

"Oh, just walking around to clear my mind," I say. I don't know why I am lying to her, it just sort of comes out. For whatever reason I just can't think of telling her the truth, there is no putting that into words.

"Me too, it's a nice night," she smiles. "You should go back home and get some sleep soon though. Call me tomorrow?"

I look at her blankly and then nod despite myself. What else am I supposed to say? No? That would definitely require some sort of explanation and I'm not ready to give her that. I'll tell her eventually, but the first time we see each other after such a long time it just doesn't seem right to ruin it.

I wave at her as she jogs back towards her house. Once she disappears from my view I slink out of the alley and head away from town. I'm not really sure where I'm going but the thought of seeing anyone else I used to know while looking like this is enough to make me sick to my stomach.

* * *

**Danican Tobin, 16, District Three**

* * *

I pull the box of metal scraps out from under my bed and get to work.

It has become a habit of mine to admire the pieces that I have already made and displayed on my desk, but today I just can't help myself from starting on them right away. A dream I had last night has given me just the idea I've been waiting for.

It has been months since the war ended and I still haven't done anything in memory of my grandfather. He was killed when he went out to war, telling everyone that he was going to fight for all of us. Father didn't let him near me after that. He said I was too impressionable and he was scared of losing me to his crazy banter.

I pull the loose sketch I made early this morning out of the top drawer of my night table and pin it to the wall that my desk faces. It's a simple medallion that I'll melt the District Three symbol into. I don't know why it took me this long to decide on what to make. I think I just wanted something a little more personal, but last night that didn't make sense anymore. He died fighting for the district so what better way to remember him by.

I light up the room with a pull of the string hanging from the ceiling and take a seat at my desk, all of my supplies strewn in front of me. I want nothing more than to open the window and work by the natural light that teases me through the thick curtains, but that's forbidden. Father was not a popular man because of his views on the war, and that is even more true nowadays. I didn't understand what more we had to fear from the rebels until I heard him talking to his assistant a couple weeks ago. Apparently the war wasn't as over as the Capitol claimed it to be.

I wouldn't know much about what the outside world is doing. I was stuck in the basement of my house for a long portion of the war and in here since the last couple of months before it ended. It's for my own protection, but that doesn't make it any nicer to be trapped for this long. The only one of my old friends that I have been allowed to see, and even then only in the safety of the Justice Building, has been Mona. Dad cleared her after a few talks with her father so we're allowed to hang out again.

I sigh and get started on the medallion. It's a really simple design, and almost boring at this stage in its creation. I slip on a pair of goggles and heat-proof gloves before starting up the burner. I smile when I think about the look on my dad's face when I asked him to buy it for me. I still can't understand why he was surprised, I have always had quite unconventional hobbies.

I jump when the door flings open, ricocheting off of the side of my desk and scaring the living shit out of me.

"I'm here!" Mona announces as she steps into my room and flops down on my bed.

"Because obviously I've been waiting, yeah," I say between heavy breaths as I try to calm my speeding heart rate. One would think that I would be used to Mona by now, having been friends for as long as we have, but sometimes she still doesn't fail to surprise me.

"Sorry," she smirks, giving me a knowing look. "Am I interrupting something? Would you like me to leave?"

I shake my head quickly. "No, please stay."

"I'm glad you said that, but either way I think we both know I wasn't going anywhere."

I roll my eyes but can't wipe the smile off of my face. Mona and I have been friends since basically forever and a day. If I had to choose one friend to be 'cleared' by my father so that I can see them, I would have certainly chosen her.

"So what do you want to do?" She sits up and puts both fists under her chin as she stares at me.

"Hm," I think for a second before replying. "I was thinking maybe take a boat across the ocean to the abandoned, tropical island I discovered last week. Oh, or we could take a sip of this magic potion that will make us grow wings and flow away. Or-"

Mona cuts me off before I can continue. "Are you going to come up with anything serious or am I going to have to think of something?"

"What do you think?" I laugh.

She rolls her eyes and bites her lip as she always does when she's thinking. "The raspberry bushes behind my house have started to ripen. If we hurry over we could grab a few before my grandmother wakes up and takes them all."

"I'm not allowed to go out, remember," I sigh and by the way her face falls it does seem like she just forgot.

"Sorry," she murmurs and I just shrug. It's not her fault that I'm stuck in here, after all, so I shouldn't blame her for it. But it's still hard to think of all the people like her that are allowed to come and go as they please while I have to answer to the birdcage. I just have to wait for someone to leave the door open, I guess.

* * *

**Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven**

* * *

I run down the stairs as soon as I hear the knock on the door, but even then my mom beats me there. I stop in my tracks on the stairs, hoping that Hayden isn't here earlier than he told me he would be.

"Oh, good evening, Hayden." I don't think the forcibly pleasant tone of her voice fools anyone, and I am not quite sure why she even tries to hide her distaste for him anymore. She has told me several times over that she doesn't appreciate people like him in her home, once even in front of Hayden. If I were a few years younger that would have been enough to turn me off of him.

I'm glad I grew some balls since then.

Every time she brings him up at dinner I make sure to shut down her dislike of him pretty quick. After all I am seventeen years old now, I should at the very least be allowed to choose my own friends. She was none too pleased about that the first few times, and I can't imagine what she would say if she knew we were a little closer than friends.

No, we're not dating and I don't think we ever will. Hayden and I are best friends and have been for a good while, and even though it would make my mother crazy if I were to date a guy like him I don't think I even want to. Not even if they approved. I don't think either of us is really the relationship type if I am being honest. Little nightly flings are much more my speed; I guess Hayden is just my longest fling so far.

"I think she stepped in the shower, actually. I'll be sure to tell her that you came around, though, dear."

As soon as I hear this, along with Hayden's awkward, mumbled reply, I rush the rest of the way down the stairs. I see Hayden before my mom turns around and give him a sly wink before putting as nice a smile as I can on my face.

"Actually, I just got out."

I don't pay attention to what she says. It doesn't really matter to me what it could be, she walked away which means she's not going to try anything else to get him to leave. "Sorry about her."

"You really need to stop apologizing for her," he smiles. "You're going to get laryngitis if you keep trying."

For some reason it doesn't sit well with my when Hayden mocks her. I'd feel worse asking him not to, though. He pretty much has every reason to hate her, even more reason than I do. She constantly criticizes and puts him down, and I really can't blame him for wanting to do the same to her. Still, though, I hate it. When I do it it's normal, we're family after all, but with Hayden and he it seems far more wrong.

"Can I come in?" He interrupts my thoughts and I realize I haven't replied yet. I bite my lip to keep from blushing and shake my head quickly.

"Let's go for a walk."

He nods and I follow him out the door, closing it loudly behind me. Ever since the end of the war I have started taking every opportunity to get outside that I can. During the war it was almost impossible for me to get out of the house without sneaking out my window, and even then I had been caught once or twice when I tried that. It drove me crazy to be kept indoors when all of that stuff was happening around me. Both of my best friends had been in the midst of it all while I stayed locked in that stupid tower for a good month before I cracked.

"Still can't get it off can they?" Hayden nods up at the roof of the shed and smiles. I follow his gaze to the detailed tombstone painting that still graced the building.

"They've had cleaning crews up a few time, but they've all said we're going to have to paint over it, "I tell him and sigh. "It should be gone in a few days."

It isn't hard to remember the frustration of my parents when they noticed the painting on the shed as they looked out the kitchen window one morning. They yelled and screamed about the disrespect that the rebels had for their property, all the while all I could think of was the incredible detail. The tombstone even had a name, Aleah Turow a little girl that was kidnapped and publically whipped to death after she was caught after curfew. Anyone in District Eleven would tell you that that was the most terrible day of the war by far. She had only been six years old- tied to a post as her brother was held back from helping her as she died.

All my parents could see was the destruction of property, while all I could see was the detailed handwriting over the thick layer of aerosol paint. All they saw was the damage and all I saw was the beauty, go figure.

"Do you think you'll ever tell them?" He asks, nodding again towards the shed just before we round the corner and it goes out of view.

"As soon as I have another death wish I will be sure to," I smile.

* * *

**Song: Spirit Breaker by August Burns Red.**

* * *

**A/N: Hey all. I seem to be getting in a regular pattern of updates, which is pretty cool. I also wanted to say that that might stop because I have a midterm next Thursday. At the very latest I will tell you to expect an update a week from today. **

**Not much else to say, hope you enjoyed and leave a review if you would be so kind as to take the time. Any comments on the general writing and style would also be appreciated.**

_**What do you think of these three tributes?**_

_**Who are your favourites out of the nine you have seen.**_

* * *

**That is all, see you next update. **


	6. Hourglass

**Hourglass by Lamb of God**

_Rapture of the dying age, a shattered hourglass_

_Wrath of the warring gods and so this too shall pass._

* * *

**Pre-Reapings Part Four**

* * *

**Caprice Neviere, 16, District Four**

* * *

It's always a mystery what time I get up in the morning. I wish I could know by the sound of the birds or the position of the sun. I'm sure someone could teach me, if there was anyone here. But there's not. There is just me, like every morning for such a long time now.

I sigh and kick the covers off of the bed. As soon as my feet hit the carpet I have already decided that today is going to be the day.

_You say that every morning, _I think to myself. _You never go. _

I roll my eyes at myself and go to the drawers at the front of the room. I look in the top drawer and sigh. I really have to do laundry soon, but it's such a hassle. The few times I have done it I was not even sure I was doing it right. We always had servants for that, but now it's just me. At least no one is here to tell me I'm doing it wrong. Only the chaffing of the stiff fabric against my skin can tell me that.

I kick my discarded clothes into one corner of the room, deciding to deal with it later in the week. Maybe when I am not so tired.

_But you can't be tired, _I remind myself. _You're going into town today, remember? _

I sigh and begin the trip down the main stairs. It's true that I will probably not be going into town today. In fact, I will probably not be going into town at any point in the near future. It's not that I am scared, because of course I am not scared of anything. It's just that, well I'm not sure what it is actually that is stopping me.

It has been so long now since I have seen anybody except the occasional passerby. I haven't left the house since I returned to it a couple weeks after the war was declared over. By then it was nothing but a bunch of empty, extravagant walls with too many security features for the rebels to get through if they could have even found the place. My parents had this house built on the outskirts of town for the reason of privacy and I'm sure that no one besides our few lonely neighbours even know that this place exists.

I become aware of my hunger as soon as my eyes catch sight of the kitchen. I have had no reason to be hungry for most of my life. The closest thing to starving that I have ever been was the months I lived in the family boat dock. There was plenty of food stored there, but I guess it was never meant to be anything more than an afternoon getaway spot.

I draw open the pantry and walk inside. The walls get more bare everyday that I am here taking from them, but I still have enough of most of my favourite foods to last a while before I will have to break into the reservoirs of my father's dried fruit obsessions or my mother's sweet teas. I have never been fond of either, but living how I did has humbled me. I cannot imagine wanting more than I have right now in this house.

Sometimes I think ill of my parents, who fled to who-knows-where before I returned from hiding. After all they did leave me, their only daughter, to live alone in this house wondering if there will ever be a time that they come back. Often, though, I thank them. I was always a bit of an isolated girl. I have found comfort in the peace and silence that I can synthesize in my own mind since before I can remember. Now I am able to live in it. What do I have to scorn my parents for? They gave me what I had wished for for a while.

It's early in the morning and I wonder what I will busy myself doing today. I would love to go venture into the garden, but I fear that my presence would become far too known. I believe that it is best for me to live in animosity, at least for now.

I throw a handful of cashews into my mouth and sit down at the dining table. I remember the time when I would be chastised as a child for making a mess in the kitchen. Well, at least there is no hope of that happening, probably ever again. I'm not sure if I am pleased with the fact that I am probably going to be alone forever or if maybe I have just gotten used to the idea.

I seal up the bag and push it into the middle of the table, suddenly not quite so hungry. It is strange to think that at sixteen I am already all alone. I mean, I figured that I would be after my parents died. Back then I thought I could never love anyone as much as I loved my parents.

Such a long time alone has changed my perceptions of them. What I thought was love and peace in my house with my family was really just a love for the quiet, easy lifestyle that I grew up with. I'm not even sure that I ever really loved them or if they ever really loved me. Can love be expressed just in a beautiful house and an easy life?

* * *

**Flint Calloway, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

"Flint is that you?"

I cringe when I hear my mother's voice calling me from the kitchen. It's not that I didn't want her to notice I was gone. I left her a note in my room telling her that I was going into town, just in case she went looking for me and started to panic again. I just hoped she would read the note, not catch me at the door.

For a moment I consider the odds of making it back up to my room without her knowing that I was here. Those chances drop to zero as soon as I see her pop her head out the door and look right at me. I drop my hand from the doorknob and sigh.

"Flint? Again?"

I shrug and do my best to put a smile on my face. It feels too awkward, so I let it drop from my lips a second later. "I'm just going into town for a bit. I left you a note."

"I told you to tell me," she sighs. "I'm right in there, Flint. It can't be that difficult."

"Sorry mom," I hang my head to avoid looking at her. I know that I should tell her when I'm leaving, but it's way too often more trouble than it's worth to her. She gets worked up and worried about the things that could happen, having listened to far too many gossiped stories from her friends. It takes me an hour minimum to get permission out of her. It's way easier just to go and suffer the consequences when I get home.

"You just have to ask me, Flint," she shakes her head and I can see tears filling her eyes. "It's not that hard. It really isn't."

"It is. You never let me when I ask." As soon as the words come off my lips I wish again that I had run back upstairs before she saw me. Her lips part open and she runs her hands down her apron. I want more than anything to have said nothing at all, but it's already happened so I stand firm by it. After all it is true.

"You would never know you don't ask," she says finally.

"Can I go into town?"

She looks at me sideways and I know that was probably the wrong thing to say. But it happened and there is no taking the words back. It's been three days since I left the house last. It's getting ridiculous. I know she is worries about what might happen, but meanwhile I am going crazy in this house. Town can't be any more dangerous than keeping me in here so long that I want to run away for good.

"One hour," she says sternly after a moment. "One hour and that is all. Do you hear me?"

This time it doesn't feel quite so awkward to smile. "Yes, thank you! I'll be back in an hour."

"You better stand by that, Flint." She sends a couple more warnings after me but I am already halfway down the path that leads from our house to the main road. I know she will be counting down the minutes until I am supposed to return, but for now at least I can get a change of scenery.

It's been months now since the last bomb fell, and District Twelve is still rebuilding. We were one of the worst districts hit, or so I have heard a lot of the older townspeople say. I wouldn't believe it if they said we were well off in the Rebellion, in fact. There wasn't more than a week during that time where I would sleep in my own room every night. Bombs and army parades made for many nights of uneasy sleeping in community bomb shelters.

I pass by a vacant lot that is about halfway between my home and the center of town. It didn't used to be so empty. In fact, my best friend practically since we were both born used to live here once upon a time. That time ended three months into the war, when District Twelve experienced the worst bombing we've ever had to get through. Normally the jets targeted city centers and busy areas, but this night they hit everything. Even a small ranch house with one door that would never close quite right.

The day my parents told me about Ember and her family, well, I think I can say with conviction that it was the worst day of my life. Before that it was always big, general areas that were hit. People that I had never met that were killed. It was terrifying, sure, thinking that my family might be next but I never believed we would be. As soon as I heard that Ember, my best friend, was gone I just couldn't look at anything the same way again.

If someone like Ember could be killed in such a terrible way, where the people that took her life didn't even care who she was, then how can anyone say that this world is good? I can't, I know that. If this place was just, it would have been me that died that night not Ember. I almost feel guilty that it wasn't.

I shake my head and force myself to walk past the dead plot of land. It doesn't do anyone much good to dwell on these things even if it is impossible not to sometimes. I have spent so long thinking about Ember, I still do actually. But none of that is going to bring her back here to District Twelve. It's just going to rot my brain until I can let go, which I expect will probably be no time soon.

* * *

**Carina Ricter, 14, District Eight**

* * *

I see the lantern walk through the darkness and my eyes glue themselves to the dim light. As the light gets closer, it suddenly disappears and I smile despite the fact that no one can see me. That means the coast is clear and it's finally time.

I jump down from the low branch that I have been perched on since just after sunset. My legs lock just before I hit the ground, causing vibrations through my body as I take on the impact. I jog silently closer to the house, being careful to avoid all of the lights that I spotted during my time in the tree. I'm not about to get caught for something so trivial.

I take out the mini screwdriver that I always keep in my side pocket and get to work unscrewing the bolts on the window. The same routine over and over again, making sure that I keep my small frame tight to the side of the house so that I will be hidden from anyone passing by. I'm not an amateur, I know what I am doing here. Get in, get out, fifteen minutes. Anymore and the risk for someone getting up for a glass of water in the night gets far too high. Any less and I'm not being careful enough.

It takes a couple minutes longer than usual to get the window free, but it comes off easily as soon as I have. Since people started to install these new 'efficient' windows it was almost laughable to get inside. It's hard to feel bad about what you're doing when they make it so easy. I slip inside, feeling around carefully with the tip of my shoe to see if there is anything underneath me.

Just as I begin to come to the conclusion that I'll have to just jump down, the tip of my shoe knocks against something hard. I have to stop myself from letting out a sigh of relief. That would have been very bad if I had jumped down. Cormac, er Dad, would have never let me live that one down. The last time I did that was two years ago and I had to jump right back up the window and run as fast as I could before someone could wake up. He still brings that up from time to time and it takes a lot to laugh off my lost pride. It was definitely not one of my proudest moments.

I slide myself into the room, both my feet landing solidly on the table under me. I slip the window back over the hole in the wall just in case a night walker takes a closer look as they pass by. Once I'm inside I take a quick look around.

Yep I can't see much.

Despite the fact that my eyes have spent almost an hour in that three adjusting to the darkness of the night, I am only able to make out the vague shapes of furniture. I blink rapidly, hoping to speed up the process so I can get to work. After a few seconds I feel about as ready as I'm going to be and I begin tiptoeing across the floor.

I am definitely in some kind of living room, which is nothing new. The best entrances are into either dining rooms or basements, and thankfully this house has a basement. Only the richest people have a finished basement area, which makes that tiny ounce of guilt disappear from my stomach. They can afford to lose what they're about to, probably more actually.

I've been groomed to thieving since I was a toddler. It's the family business after all. Cormac started just before the age of ten, and he was all alone. I still can't imagine how scary that must have been. Even the petty thieving he tells me he took part in for the first year and a half. At least I have always had Cormac, Dad I remind myself, to mentor me. I've learned a lot faster than he probably did, and with a lot less hard lessons.

Up until the beginning of the war, Cormac helped me work my way up from being the lookout all the way up to where I am now going into houses myself. The war presented a rather interesting, and much more profitable, opportunity for people like us. People that have been given the short end of the stick in life and chose to do something to even the odds. One of Cormac's long time friends recommended him to the main guy in charge of the thing, and he found us. Just that fact alone made Cormac both respect him and fear him. We were not easy people to find on any given day by simply asking around.

Both of us were taken in as Runners, in charge of running information between rebel groups when it was too dangerous for ordinary soldiers to do it. It was terrifying at first, then exhilarating a couple days later. For the first time I had more family than just Cormac. There were dozens of Runners, all of them moving around and living in groups. I made friends my own age, Darlene and Jarried, and meeting them was like meeting another version of myself. They had grown up with similar values and experiences. The hardest thing I have ever done was leave them when the war ended and there was no longer a need for Runners. I have yet to see them since and I'm certain the only place I would ever reunite with them is jail.

The life of a thief is a lonely one, that's what Cormac always told me growing up. It has broken me away from most of District Eight and detached me from everyone including my dad. It's hard to distinguish between the times when he is being a father and when he is being an accomplice. Usually it's a mix of both.

I've always had the opportunity to leave him. He has no desire to keep me anywhere I don't want to be and has told me that if I wish to leave that I am welcome to. A few times the thought has even crossed my mind. But if I left I would serve no purpose. This is the only thing I have ever been taught to do. I've never gone to school nor had friends other than my time as a Runner. I wouldn't know how to survive out there. I know I would never leave, this is my life and has been since I was born. There is nothing that can change that- I am a thief through and through just like my father.

* * *

**Song: Hourglass by Lamb of God.**

* * *

**A/N: I told you I would update by Friday, so here I am updating on Friday! Next week should be a weird update day again. Oh the joys of midterms. Anyways, we are now halfway through the tributes so that is very exciting! **

_**What do you think of these three tributes?**_

_**Who are your overall favourites out of the twelve you've seen?**_

* * *

**Hopefully should be updating around the same time next week or possibly a day earlier depending on how much work I have to do. So yeah, see you all then I guess. **


	7. Humankind

**Chemical Bomb by Aquabats**

_Back in this world of humankind  
I think we've already lost our minds_

* * *

**Pre-Reapings Part Five**

* * *

**Vera Hemley, 17, District One**

* * *

I sigh and spin my chair around at my desk, smiling as the room swirls around me. It's only late morning and I already feel like I am ready to go back to bed. If there's nothing better to do in a few hours maybe I will sneak in a short nap.

"Vera? Are you up yet?" I can hear my mother clambering up the stairs, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she walks.

"Yes, Mom," I call back. Seconds later she opens the door, her face somewhat flushed underneath the deep layers of makeup that she has already spread on despite the rather early hour.

"Vera, did you not hear me calling you?" She asks, leaning against the door frame elegantly. I can't really understand how but everything my mother does could probably be described as elegant. She is a beautiful woman and looks like she could be my older sister despite having just celebrated her forty-third birthday last month.

I'm pleased that I was blessed with her looks, not that having my father's brownish hair and dark eyes would have been terrible either. A good majority of the girls in District One have the same beautiful features that my mother and I share. Tall with blonde hair and a slender frame. I wish I would have inherited my mother's green eyes as well as her hair, but she always tells me that my light brown eyes make me stand out from the other girls.

"I answered you," I smile and she purses her lips.

"I didn't hear you, I guess," she brushes it off and continues. "Your father wanted to know if you had a chance to look at the new book her gave you last night."

"Of course I have," I lie and I can feel my face heating up. When my father came back from his office last night he brought home a medical journal for the third time this week. In all honesty I am still working on the first, though I skimmed the second yesterday morning since I knew that with it being his only day off he would want to discuss it. If she is asking about it that means he's home and wants to talk about it. Not good.

"He's been home sick with a cold all morning, he was wondering if you wanted to discuss it later when you've finished your morning studying," she says with a smile. In all honesty I am impressed that she is able to keep up that cheery disposition about this. Although it has been months since I told them both that I wanted to study to become a doctor, I know I broke her heart.

I think it is fair to say that my mother's biggest dream for me was that I would be as successful as her. In all honesty that probably is my biggest dream as well, but I see it a little bit differently than she does. I don't want to just marry into success and riches. I want to make my own, like my father did. I don't think I was ever made to just be something nice for my husband to look at while he counted his money. It would bore me to death to be nothing more than a trophy wife.

"I'll go down in a little while, I just need to finish this chapter," I reply. "Is he in his office?"

"Of course," she laughs. "Where else would he be if he is at home?"

I join in her laughter. It's true that my father has been and always will be the hardest working man I have ever seen. He works six days a week, only taking Wednesdays off for the past ten years, for over ten hours a day at the largest hospital in District One. When he isn't at work he is at home, writing up his own journals in hopes that someday he will be able to send one or two in for publishing.

I definitely got my medical know-how from him. Especially during the war, I learned more than I probably ever would have been able to otherwise. I mean, of course I spent many afternoons flipping through my father's journals and some older ones that he's kept lying around his office. But during the war one of the only things to be hit hard by the Capitol bombings was our hospital.

Thankfully, my father and some of the other doctors were able to salvage a lot of the equipment from the ruins- some even had old equipment in their houses for whatever reason- and they all set up temporary hospitals in their homes. After watching my father treat patients for over a month he asked me if I wanted to help out and the rest is history. I fell in love with helping people and the power I had to do well for them when they needed it most.

"Also I am making lunch and it will be ready in about half an hour so come down for that before you and your father get into one of those long discussions," she tells me. "I'm making your favourite, chilli and homemade bread."

"Thanks, I'll remember to come down." I let my eyes fall back down to the textbook I have spread out on my desk and she takes the cue to leave, shutting the door quietly behind her. As soon as I hear her shoes clicking down the stairs I get up and rush over to my nightstand, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing the journal.

I cringe when I realize how thick the book is. There is no way I will be able to get through much of it before my father will be expecting me in his office. Hopefully he'll take the excuse that I could only get through the first few sections this morning along with my normal textbook readings. I really hate to have to lie to him again.

* * *

**Dallas Audrinne, 17, District Five**

* * *

"Okay next question," Amian says between giggles, pressing her hand to her lips as if in deep thought. "Gwyn, would you rather spend a night with Mathias or Tallen?"

The three of us explode into another fit of laughter at the very thought of having to decide. This question always seems to come up in during our games of Ask and Tell. Not because the two boys are both equally irresistible, well I guess they are in some sense. They are both around the zero mark on the irresistibility scale.

"I always get this one that's not fair," Gwyn whines and Amian doesn't even pause in her laughter. Neither of us has to explain to Gwyn that she has no choice but to answer, it's the name of the game after all. Someone asks a question and you tell them the answer, no matter what.

"Fine," she groans. "Tallen."

"Ew!" I exclaim, even the thought of my pretty friend having to spend even a moment with the greasy-haired boy from school making me sick and amused at the same time.

"Okay I answered, my turn," Gwyn grins and turns to Amian.

"Me again?" Amian sighs. "Come on, pick Dallas this time this is getting unfair."

"Amian," Gwyn says, appearing to not even have heard her plea. "If a wealthy man asked you to run away with him and get married, but never see anyone you know ever again, would you do it?"

I watch as all the blood runs from my friends face and I can't help but feel a little bit bad for her. It is no secret that she has lived in one of the poorest regions of District Five for her entire life, but her family is everything to her and more. While she always fantasizes about breaking out of the cycle that her family has been in fro generations, I'm not sure she would be able to cope without her sisters.

"No," she sighs. "I don't think I could do that."

There is a bit of silence after she says that and I wonder if the game is over now. There is always a time when one of us goes a bit too far, but I didn't think Gwyn's question was enough to make Amian want to quit. This is probably her favourite game and it is usually her who suggests it.

"Dallas," she says finally and I perk up again. Truth be told, I like this game as well even if I often pretend I hate it. This also means Amian isn't too upset, which is always a plus. She's generally the most sensitive of the three of us and Gwyn and I sometimes find it difficult to bite our tongues.

"If you had the chance to visit your parents, would you do it?"

This time I'm sure it is my face that goes pale. My eyes immediately fly to the floor, the discomfort of looking at either of my friends simply too much for me to handle. Why would she ask me that? She knows. Is she trying to be a bitch right now because it sure seems like it.

I can feel my body shaking and squint my eyes just in case I might cry. My parents are a sensitive subject, both of them know that. "I have to go, I promised my aunt I would be home early tonight to help with dinner."

"Oh come on Dallas don't go," Gwyn calls after me as I get up to grab my bag. "She didn't mean anything by it."

"I'm sorry you don't have to answer!" Amian tries, but I am already several feet away with no intention of turning back. I mean what do they expect, really?

"I'll see you guys later," I call back without turning around.

They know better than to try to come after me and so I walk the ten minutes to my aunt's house in comforting loneliness. It's nearly five o'clock so Aunt Margeaux and her daughter, Fami, are already there are preparing dinner. I don't bother to ask where Rowler is because neither of them are likely to know anyway. He prefers to go for walks alone when he gets back from work or school, that is just how he is.

"Dallas, you're home early." My aunt greets me as soon as I slip in the back door. She is standing at the kitchen counter with a peeler in one hand and a half-prepped potato in the other. Fami also looks up from where she is chopping up carrots at the dining table and smiles when she sees me.

"Gwyn had to go visit her grandmother so I figured that I would leave as well," I nod. "Do you need any help?"

"You can help Fami with the vegetables," Aunt Margeaux says, motioning towards the kitchen table. "Make sure you chop them nice as thin so they cook quicker."

I sit down across from my cousin and pick up a broad knife and a handful of celery. While I would obviously much rather be hanging out with my friends, I never really mind spending time with my aunt's family. Especially helping with things like preparing dinner or doing the cleaning. It makes me feel like I'm more part of the family than just a freeloader with nowhere else to go. Aunt Margeaux insists that she loves having me here but it's hard for me to see that. After all who would want to take care of the daughter of two convicts?

* * *

**Verden Arell, 17, District Nine**

* * *

"Lucky you, Verd," I hear the voice over my shoulder and I turn around to see Serder standing over me. The greasy, creepy owner of the grain mill is known for appearing out of nowhere to get a reaction. Having worked here for years, even over the wartime, I have gotten very used to it and I don't even flinch.

"Hello Serder," I nod politely and set the grinder down a notch so that it won't overheat.

"You're done for the day," he says, a dry cough interrupting him halfway through the statement. "I'm going to have Hector finish up for the day by himself."

"I was supposed to stay another hour and a half," I say, narrowing my eyes. I've always had set hours here, that is part of the reason why I've stayed here for so long. Having your hours set out each week is something that isn't common in jobs anymore, but despite Serder's demeanour he has always been good about it.

"Production's down this week, I can't afford you both, Verd."

"Send Hector home then," I say, trying to stay calm even as I feel my anger seething through the spaces between my teeth. "I need the money this week, we had to pay school dues on Tuesday."

"Sorry, Verd," Serder grunts. "Get a move on, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Serder," I try again. "Come on please, I need the hours this week."

"You still got plenty more than the others, Verd," he reminds me. "Sorry, my hands are tied you have to go early tonight."

I throw my gloves down on the ground and head out to the back room to collect my bag. I've been loyal to Serder for years, that's why I have the longer hours than the other workers. They've only been here a few months except for Lex, who started three months after I did. This is damn unfair of Serder, he knows I need the hours.

I rip my bag off of the hook in the corner of the room and ignore Serder as he comes in behind me. I know it's bad of me to be angry with him, but at this point I don't really care. It's been years that I have been with him. I deserve every privilege he gives me.

I storm past Hector to get out of the mill and he nods in my direction with an apologetic look. I don't even acknowledge him even though I know he isn't the one to blame in this situation. I leave the mill without another word to either of them.

It's only about a fifteen minute walk to get home, and the chill of the night manages to take some heat off of my anger before I get home. When I walk in the door the house is just as dark as it always is. It's hardly eleven now, but I know that Narelle and Pavla will have gone to their rooms by ten. Mom probably turned in early as well, she's slept a lot more than she used to lately. Silly me to think she might have finally come to some sort of terms with what happened. Neither her nor Pavla seem to have found the ability to forgive me quite yet.

I walk past the girls' door and I can hear whining from inside. I stop right outside the door and listen closer. Yes, definitely Narelle. I enter the room without knocking and my eyes skim over Pavla's bed where my fourteen-year old sister lays in a deep sleep.

In the bed across from her, Narelle tosses and turns with her hands balled into fists and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Without even having to wake her up and ask her I know she is having another nightmare, nothing new since they've been plaguing her for the past few months.

I gently shake her shoulders until her eyes fly open. She whispers my name and latches onto me and I can't help but smile. Nothing much nowadays seems to give me a reason to, but Narelle has a way of squeezing smiles out of me without even trying.

"Shh," I hear Pavla hiss from across the room. Narelle looks up at me and I shrug.

I lean down close to her and whisper as quietly as I can so that I don't annoy Pavla anymore. "Do you want to come sleep in my room tonight?"

Narelle nods softly, and with her big, tired eyes staring up at me I can tell that there was no way I was going to leave her behind anyway. I put one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back and lift her off of the bed. I kick the door open in front of me and shove it closed again with my foot. Narelle puts her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing in delight.

"What are you doing?" As soon as I hear the voice come from the crack in the next bedroom door I can feel the smile dissolving right off my face. I allow my steps to slow just a bit until I see my mother's eyes peeking through the crack.

"She had a bad dream again," I admit and now I even I can hear the tiredness in my voice again.

"Keep it down," she says shakily and her face disappears a second later. A moment later I realize that I am still standing in front of her bedroom with Narelle looking up at me expectantly. I try to force the smile back to my lips but it's gone, so I trudge the next few steps to my room. I place Narelle lightly on the bed and pull a pillow down onto the floor for myself, lighting a candle and setting it on the nightstand because I know she is still afraid of the dark.

* * *

**Song: Chemical Bomb by Aquabats**

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**A/N: Updating despite the fact that I am still in the middle of midterms. This chapter went quite quick for whatever reason, and I am pretty happy with how it turned out so I hope you all are as well. **

**You have now read about 15/24 of the tributes so only nine more (three chapters) to go before we start with the more interesting stuff! If you have the time a review with the questions below and any general comments about the writing would be very appreciated.**

_**What do you think of these three tributes?**_

_**Who are your favourites out of all the tributes you have seen?**_

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**I have no idea when I will be updating next, hopefully not more than a week from now but I will just have to see. I have a pretty hectic schedule right about now but I will do my best not to take too long. **


	8. Running

**Eve of Destruction by Barry McGuire**

_If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away  
There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave._

* * *

**Pre-Reapings Part Six**

* * *

**Connor Leland, 18, District Two**

* * *

I hate the feeling. The one where you are floating in your own personal dream space and all of a sudden somehow the light feels way too bright and you wake up. It's exactly what happens every morning, because the first thing my mother likes to do when she wakes up at some horrifyingly early hour of the morning is open all of the window blinds in the house.

I open my eyes and sure enough I am greeted by the giant square of light at the side of my room. I groan and roll over, hoping to extract a few more minutes of sleep from the night. A couple minutes of closed eyes later and I decide it's pointless. I push the blankets off of me and sit up, one last yawn coming over my body.

I get up and head over to my dresser, pulling on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of socks. There's no point in changing our of my sweatpants, it's not like I plan on going anywhere today. Maybe a few months ago I might have planned on heading over to Marlon's house or maybe even across town to see Caspian. Nowadays it doesn't seem like that is going to become a habit again. My social life has been quiet over the past little while, not that I really mind that much.

It started a while after the war began, sometime around the few days that followed my sixteenth birthday. I started to get the idea of signing up to help in the war effort. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time and I don't think my mind has changed about that one. Marlon was against the idea altogether, while Caspian tried his best to reason himself into the idea. They didn't get the point of it- there were plenty of soldiers, they would say, most of them older and more fit to serve than I was.

I knew that of course. District Two was lucky enough that there were many willing citizens to pick up a gun or a microphone and fight for the rights of their fellow people. They were all admirable men and women, but they were losing from the very beginning. I wanted to try and help. Maybe make some sort of difference if I could. The idea of just sitting inside or trying to go about my normal life when bombs were being dropped on innocent people was simply not something I could entertain.

Thinking about my months in training forces my eyes instinctually over to the corner beside my bed where a long gun sits against the wall harmlessly. I haven't so much as touched the thing since moving back into my parent's house from the tiny barracks I shared with dozens of other soldiers. It's weird that I feel no desire to pick it up again. I guess without the war there is no use for a gun, though.

I let my eyes settle on the gun for a moment longer before I decide it's time to focus on something else. The worst thing is that I think the sixteen year old Connor saw more longevity for the war. Being a soldier was something I decided on during a time that I had to start looking at options for my future. Without the war it looks like I'm starting over.

I shrink down into my desk chair with a sigh. For a few more months at least I have school before my curriculum ends. After that, who even knows where I will be. I'm expected to have things figured out by now, well before now actually but the war has given me a bit of leeway. In all honesty I have no idea what I'll be doing two months from now when I finish school.

I look up at the paper I taped to the wall about a month ago. I was trying to get some creativity going, maybe finally decide what I want to do with my life. All I managed to come up with was three point form notes. The first says 'With Dad'. It's true that my father owns a small shop that sells any random thing that the mind could come up with, calls it a 'variety shop'. It's his pride and joy, that shop, but I've spent enough time in the little building to know that it's not a place I want to be for the next fifty years.

The second is just a series of question marks, made on a day that I was frustrated beyond belief about three weeks ago. Finally, the third and final point is just one word 'Peacekeeper'. I had thought about it for about a week before writing it down, and so far it's my best option. I know that my parents would be relieved to hear it because at least it would mean I had finally decided on something.

The problem is that these days, Peacekeepers are not very highly regarded in District Two. They were the first barrier between us and the Capitol that tried to keep the rebellion at bay since its beginning. Even now that the war is over, people have not been keen on forgetting the things they have done.

It would be just my luck that the only thing I can even think about doing with my life would make me one of the most hated beings in the district.

I sigh and run my hands down my face. I tear the paper down off the wall and crumple it into a ball. I toss it over my shoulder and bury my face in my arms. What the hell am I doing with my life, I'm eighteen years old for crying out loud. Everyone else already has everything all figured out, why don't I yet?

* * *

**Kyra Lacasse, 14, District Ten**

* * *

"Kyra! Over here!"

I kick the ball in the direction of the voice without even looking. Grayson has the ball when I finally stop running and look over at him. His long hair falls into his eyes and he shakes it away, smiling as he dashes for the makeshift net we have set up at one end of the yard. Declan stands in the net, both hands placed defensively out in front of him and eyes flickering between Grayson and I.

I anticipate the pass a second before the ball hits the inside of my foot, and I send it flying towards the net a second after that. Declan sees the last minute past but jumps just short of being able to reach the ball. It is stopped in the net and Grayson runs over to high-five me. I pump my fist in the air and smile as Declan gets up and brushes the grass off of his knees.

"Lucky shot," he grumbles, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance even though all of us can see the smile on his lips. I'm glad it's Declan I scored on and not Grayson, he's the one that sometimes gets a bit heated if he gets scored on too often. Declan and Safire are much better sports about it, especially when it's me doing the shooting. I am the best kicker in our grade, after all.

"No way," Grayson says, his breathing heavy as he jogs over to us. "She doesn't make lucky shots, Dec. We make lucky saves sometimes but Kyra doesn't make lucky shots."

"I know," Declan says, slapping me on the back. "Next game I get her on my time. I think I've had my ass handed to me enough times today."

"Fine," I say and turn around to the other boy heading over to meet us at the net. I just met him a few days ago when Grayson brought him to our last game. He's not the fastest runner but he's a great goalie, I think even better than Declan. Too bad he insists on playing main-field or he could be a real help. "Athen! You're on Grayson's team now!"

"Ah fine," he jokes, hitting Grayson in the stomach when he reaches us. "You play goalie, I'm getting in the groove of midfield now."

When Athen looks away I notice Grayson roll his eyes and have to cough to cover the laugh that escapes. The two have just started to hang out since Athen's mother joined Grayson's mother's gardening group. She brought Athen along after hearing that she had a son his age. Evidently Athen doesn't have many friends, but we're happy enough to have him around. Especially since Safire never comes out anymore, at least now we can play two-on-two again.

"Kyra!"

I groan when I hear my mother's voice calling me. I turn towards my house and sure enough I can see her standing on the porch calling me. I turn back to my friends and shrug. "I guess I have to go, I'll catch you guys later."

"Don't forget, we have a full game on Saturday," Declan reminds me. "We got a bunch of guys from school to come out and play with us for the afternoon, it's going to be awesome."

"I won't forget!" I call behind me as I take off towards my house. I really should not be keeping my mother waiting much longer. Last time she freaked out on me majorly and I promised that I wouldn't stay out so long and I already know that I left just after lunch and it's beginning to get dark. I've been gone for at least five, six hours maybe more.

Before I even reach the porch I can see the stern look on my mother's face and I brace myself for a bit of yelling. "My goodness Kyra, didn't you hear me?"

"I'm here so yeah I did," I say and immediately regret it by the way her expression tightens. "Sorry, it was a long run we were in the field."

"That's so far, couldn't you kids play closer to the house? Or at least closer to Declan's house where his mother could see you better?" She goes on as she opens the back door and ushers me in. I kick off my muddy boots just before I get inside, hoping that I remember to rinse them off after dinner before she sees them. She hates mud almost more than she hates me being late, so my boots will not be allowed inside without a quick rinse at least.

"What's for dinner?" I ask , unbuttoning my sweater and hanging it up on the free hook by the door. The sweater doesn't hang the first time so I have to pick it up off the floor and hang it again, and in that time there is nothing but silence. I turn around and face her, not being able to help the look I give her.

When she still doesn't answer I can't help myself. "What?"

She sighs and runs her hands down her thighs. "Kyra would it honestly hurt you that much to be a little more considerate of things?"

"I said I was sorry I didn't come right away," I whine. This is a conversation I have had way too often with her and it always ends up the same way. I promise to be a little less reckless or whatever and then I break that promise, at least in her eyes, the very next day.

"It's dangerous out there, Kyra. The rebellion might be over but I'm your mother and I worry. I can't help that. The least you could do is make it a little easier on me."

I have to hold in the comment I want to say in favour of ending the conversation now rather than later. Don't get me wrong, I really do hate to upset her. But every single thing I do upsets her, so what am I supposed to do?

* * *

**Radimir Ankratji, 17, District Six**

* * *

I squint my eyes and throw a smile at the next woman that passes me. She turns and looks me up and down before moving on, obviously I am not what she is looking for tonight. I consciously broaden my shoulders and puff out my chest just a little bit, so that it looks natural of course. It's a Friday night, not even eleven o'clock yet. I can't understand why the street is so dead, it's always bustling this time of night with people looking for a deal anything from drugs to sex.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I automatically straighten my posture again. Unfortunately it's only a young girl, probably no older than ten or so, and her eyes widen when she realizes where she is. This area is famous in District Six and no one comes wants to come around unless their looking for something.

With nothing else to do in the dead night, I find myself taking a closer look at the girl. She almost reminds me of Melita back on that first day I met her. The same scraggly, unwashed hair and clothes to match- the look that comes with living on the streets. I almost can't help myself from feeling bad for the girl, by the stories that Melita has told me about her months out here it's not a pretty life to have nowhere to go.

She told me a few times now about the people that she would see out here, the ones that would try to rope her into things she couldn't even understand just so that they could use her for their own gain. The guilt is always there when I think about how I met her and realize that I was just another one of those people that she should have been afraid of.

It's been a long time now, since the day I met her. Well I guess met is quite a stretch. More like the day I caught her just seconds after she pick pocketed me, grabbing the collar of her dirtied shirt and watching as her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

It was a lucky thing that she chose that day to try it. Any other day I might have thrown her to the Peacekeepers, it would have served her right for trying to steal from me. But no, that day was one of those times when I've felt particularly vulnerable. Again vulnerable might not be the right word.

I was thinking about revenge.

So rather than throw her to the whips I cut her a deal. I would offer her a place to stay for a few nights and not turn her in, and she would do something for me. She would tell the Peacekeepers about a rebel hideout that she had found. The revenge would be done and I wouldn't have to have really done anything.

Of course she agreed. What other choice did she have? My wish was far kinder than anything that the Peacekeepers would have subjected her to. They don't know the word gentle, not even for young girls stricken by nothing but pure misfortune. Her life for another, a fair trade. My father was executed the next morning on the charge of treason.

I shake the memory out of my head, correcting my posture yet again. These are the thoughts for a later time, I am working right now. If anyone had seen me just now, well, my chances of getting any business any time soon may have just been drastically decreased.

I bite the edge of my lip as a rather young looking woman passes by me but she doesn't even look up from the ground. Slow night, I think again, not able to help the sigh that comes out. These times are the worst. The ones where I am actually having to consciously think about what I am doing and how wrong it feels. It's far easier on the busy nights where someone draws their hand across my wrist and I know the payment is already pretty much in my pocket.

I don't hate this job, well if you can call it that. I mean that I don't hate the fact that I am finally able to do something for myself. The only time I ever get those episodes of rapid heart rate and dry mouth is the first touch. Just like the first time he touched me, the very first connection is the worst. You know it's wrong but you've already gone too far to correct it. Once you get past that first second you're golden.

The next time I look up the street is no longer empty. Women with fluffy coats and men with worn hats are beginning to shuffle down the sidewalk, their eyes intrigued yet not making contact with anyone. Once they make eye contact with one of us, everyone will know. Until then they can pretend that they are just passing by. All of us know, though, what they're here for. The girls have already started to venture out into their doorways, their black eyes and red lips drawing in whoever will look their way.

A man slows his steps in front of me and I lift my eyes to his face. He is well over the age of fifty, with greying hair and wrinkled cheeks. I reach out a hand, careful not to touch him first. That is a big no-no, because anyone not wanting the attention could easily turn the authorities on one of us.

As soon as his fingertips touch the inside of my wrist I am hit with a mixture of relief that I won't be going home empty-armed and disgust at the feeling of his skin on mine. The men are the worst for bringing back the ghost touch of my father, but they always pay more. Boys like me are hard to find.

I swallow my discomfort and gently lead him towards the door I had been standing in front of, making sure to leave my disgust at the door so I can pick it back up tomorrow morning.

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**Song: Eve of Destruction by Barry McGuire.**

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**A/N: Alright I am here. This chapter was insanely difficult to write for whatever reason, but it is done. Also there are only two more to go, so six more tributes to showcase before we get to really start the story. I'll be excited to get to the point, honestly these are getting to be a bit repetitive (sorry).**

**Also apologizing to the few of you that have had to wait for long to see your character. Shouldn't be too long now!**

**Leave a review if you are so inclined. It would be much appreciated if you would take the time to answer the questions below as well as comment generally on the writing in the chapter. Thanks!**

_**What do you think of these three tributes?**_

_**Who are your favourites out of the tributes you have seen?**_

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**Until next time! Bye.**


	9. Direction

**Hold Out Your Hand by Nickelback**

_Too late for another direction  
Always what we've got in store_

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**Pre-Reapings Part Seven**

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**Jalissa Kessey, 18, District Three**

* * *

"Thank you, Jalissa," my mom nods gratefully as I position myself in front of the kitchen sink. I've just woken up, and seeing my mom already starting the house chores has pretty much dictated what I am going to be doing until they're done.

"Welcome," I smile.

"Hey, I'll dry!" Aliyah shouts a second later as she comes bounding down the stairs. Frankly, I'm surprised to see her awake already, let alone showered and dressed. It's hardly ten o'clock and everyone has always joked that she got the late rising gene from our dad while I got early rising from our mom.

"What are you doing up?" I ask, turning around to give her a sideways look before turning on the taps to run the water.

"What do you mean? I'm _always _up by now," she says a matter-a-factly, grabbing a clean rag off of the pile by the door and heading over to stand beside me.

I'm about to say something about that when mom turns around and gives me a wink. "Hush. If she's awake and eager to help with the chores don't discourage her, dear."

I roll my eyes but listen to her and say nothing further. Truthfully I'm glad to have the help, dishes are my least favourite thing to do- actually everyone's least favourite thing now that I think about it. But since mom has already started the mopping I guess I have no choice but to be on dish duty this morning.

"Girls, how would you like to go into town for me in a little bit?" As soon as the words are out of her mouth Aliyah is grabbing onto the sleeve of my shirt with wide, eager eyes.

"Yes!" she answers immediately. If there is one thing that my sister loves it's going into town, especially just the two of us. She's fifteen now and as independent as anything, but mom isn't too keen on her going alone after everything that has been going on since the end of the war. I'm grateful that mom trusts me to keep Aliyah safe, and even though I would be just as happy to stay home for the day I guess I'll take her.

The dishes don't take long with Aliyah breathing down my neck and telling me several times to just go a bit faster. Less than half an hour later and we are putting our shoes on by the front door, and myself a thin sweater even though Aliyah rolls her eyes and tells me that it's not nearly cold enough to need one.

"I just need a couple of things so it shouldn't take you too long," our mom tells us, grabbing a few bills and a handful of coins out of the jar on top of the kitchen cupboard. "I'm out of tea leaves, whatever has the best price. We need a loaf of bread for dinner. Oh and there should be enough left over for you each to pick up a treat from the sweet shop."

"Awesome, thanks mom!" Aliyah grins and holds out her hand to take the money.

We're out the door hardly a minute later, stepping carefully around the puddle's that last night's rainstorm left on the steps. Twice before we are even out of view of the house I have to call out for Aliyah to slow down for me to catch up.

"Come on, Lis'," she urges me for the second time, her arms folded impatiently across her chest.

"I don't see what the big rush is," I laugh, rolling my eyes at her urgency. I know she just wants to get out of the house, she's been like this since the end of the war came about and leaving the house finally became a possibility. The stir-crazy attitude she developed over the while spent in our shelter has not subsided even a little bit.

Like a lot of the people that didn't outwardly support the rebellion, my family and I spent much of the war- especially the last months of it- just trying to stay out of the way of it all. My parents were employed by the Capitol, and their pay was something they couldn't be ungrateful for. But they understood the reasons for why the nation was rebelling. I guess in some small way they agreed with the districts, but they always told me that this war wasn't theirs to fight.

Our basement was built into a safe house, the best that they could come up with for Aliyah and I during the time when supplies were difficult to come by. I still remember the first time we went down there. It was dark and small, but it felt safe. There was not much for us to do down there, but they made sure to stock the room with books, puzzles, and scrap paper.

"Hurry up," Aliyah groans from in front of me and I smile and shake my head at her. That is the best thing that came out of staying in the safe house for as long as we did. Before that time, Aliyah and I were not near as close as we have become. Now, I can't imagine not having my sister as my best friend.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I grin as I catch up to her. By now we are entering the busy part of town where all the shops have been reset up. The war was difficult on anyone that owned a house or shop in this area of town. I remember walking around with my mom a few days after we left the safe house. District Three was a mess. There was dust and rubble everywhere and nothing was recognizable to me. Not the sweet shop or the bakery or anything else.

The town has come a long way since then. Most of the shopkeepers have either rebuilt and reopened their stores or sold their property to someone who could afford to buy it. At least a good amount of the stores that I used to visit after school are still up. They look a bit different, but in all honesty I think it would have been strange if nothing had changed. So much has changed about the people walking around, I think it's almost poetic for the town to reflect that.

* * *

**Merryn Celtey, 15, District Seven**

* * *

With one more pull the weed comes free, sending me flailing back where I land with a groan on the ground. I toss the weed aside into the pile I have been pulling all morning and position myself over the next one. I just went over the gardens a couple days ago, it's amazing how quickly these things can grow back. If the vegetables grew this fast I don't think it would be a problem for us to feed most of District Seven during the growing season.

This next one comes out far easier than the last. My mother always offers to help me when she wakes up, but by then I am already halfway done and in the groove of it, so I usually decline her offer. These gardens have always been my sanctuary, since I was big enough to help my mother pick the beans off of the bean plants. Since then I've grown our backyard into what I like to think of as a forest of flowers and vegetables.

Most of the vegetable plants are my mother's, which were planted a very long time ago by my grandmother who spent the best years of her life out here. My grandmother used to say that the gardening gene skipped a generation to pass over my mother before getting to me. It's not difficult to agree with her, my mother hates getting dirty or even really being outside.

The flower plants are all my doing, though. About three years ago I got to digging up a good portion of the backyard. I waited forever for permission, my mother didn't see the point of growing flowers since we couldn't eat them. Finally she said yes, but made me promise that I would continue tending to the vegetable plants first and not use any of the good fertilizers on the flower plants.

I turn and look over at the rows of tulips and a smile automatically comes over my face. Vegetables and fruits are nice to grow, but they're only nice to look at during the harvest months. Before that they are nothing but mounds of green leaves. Our yard looks so much nicer now that there's a little more color.

"Hey! Merryn!" The sudden voice causes me to jump and the weed I'd been holding comes out of the ground, stem only. I groan, knowing that I'll have to go digging for the roots so that they don't grow back in the same spot.

I turn around and roll my eyes when I see Finley running out from the forest, nearly tripping over several trunks on his way over. Finley has lived straight through the forest from me for as long as he and I can remember, no more than an eight minute walk, but we only met when we were seven and he stumbled upon me playing in a clearing of the forest. Ever since then it has become usual for me to see him at least every other day, usually more.

Just before he reaches me he looks up from the path he's running on and promptly trips over a root, causing him to fall right to his knees. I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud and run over to help my friend, making sure that I check the ground as I do.

"Finley are you alright," I giggle as I kneel down beside him.

He pushes himself up from his chest and back up to his feet, brushing the grass from his knees and palms. "Ah man, my mom's going to kill me."

I shake my head and laugh. Finley's mother is always getting on him about the state he comes home in every night. My friend is many things but careful and cleanly are not any of them. He always manages to get mud and grass all over himself, even when he tries his best to be careful. It drives his mother crazy.

"Hey what are you doing on the ground, Mer?" He laughs, pulling me up before I even have to chance to ask for a hand. "You're so clumsy sometimes, geez."

I roll my eyes and brush off my knees as well, even though I'm wearing a skirt and there will be no stains. "I know, it's a real problem. I'm glad I have you here to make sure I don't trip over my own feet all day long."

"Exactly," he says and throws his arm around my shoulder as I walk back towards the gardens. "See, I'm good for something!"

"Never said you weren't," I laugh. "But I have work to do, so maybe come back in a little bit? Sorry."

"But I'm already here," he sighs dramatically. "If I walk all the way back home I might trip and fall again. And with you not there to save me... I don't know if I'll make it, Mer."

"You are so dramatic, Fin," I sigh. "I'm almost done, if you want to chill, but I have to finish before we go anywhere."

"Of course!" He shouts suddenly. "The flowers must come before your friend. They depend on you, and with one single minute less time from their beloved caretaker they might all perish overnight."

I roll my eyes and sigh again. "Fine, I was pretty much done anyway. I guess they can wait until tomorrow morning."

"A-are you sure?" He sputters in mock horror. "They can wait?"

I hit him playfully in the stomach and smile. "Stop it. My goodness, Fin."

"I'm just joking with you, what do you want to do?"

I think for a second before answering. "My mother was baking cookies the last time I went inside. I bet they're done by now."

Before I even finish my sentence Finley is taking off towards the house, and even at my fastest I am in no way capable of catching my hungry friend.

* * *

**Harlan Pearce, 12, District Eleven**

* * *

I can't remember a time when I haven't been at one extreme or another. The days too warm, the nights far too cold. The shade like a frozen shadow and the sun like a burning blanket. I can never get comfortable, not even in sleep. I'm always too _something_.

As people pass by me I try and force my eyes toward them but even after months out here I cannot make myself do it often. It's embarrassing at the very least, selfish at the worst, to have to depend on the generosity of people passing by. Another thing it is is empty. My hands, my stomach, my eyes. All empty. I have to depend on people who also have nothing, and so even on the best days all of me is empty.

"Hello, my boy," I look to my right and see Dorian standing over me and I cannot help but smile. Even after I stopped going into his shop he has found ways to come check on me. He used to give me the best return for anything I brought in, even though I know now how hard it was on him to do so. I'm grateful that he still cares at least a little bit about me. No one else seems to give a damn.

"Hi Dorian," I smile. "How's the shop?"

"Oh you know, slow as ever," he laughs. "The wife's getting on me about selling it again."

"As if you'd ever do that," I reply. Dorian is in love with his shop, sometimes I think even more than his wife or two sons. The little trinket shop is no bigger than the one room house my parents and I used to share before we fled District Eight, but it's his pride and joy. The day he sells it would be the same day that he sells his left arm, it's just not going to happen no matter how tight things get.

"Hush, don't let her hear that," he shrugs but the smile stays on his face. "I told her I would think about it. How are you doing, son?"

I know he doesn't mean anything by it, but every time he calls me 'son' it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I haven't seen my parents for over a year and a half. Not since we reached the edge of District Eleven one night and got caught in the cross fire of an outside rebel attack. I never even knew where they went, they just disappeared according to what I can remember. I woke up tucked between a couple of thick tree trunks, my head aching and bruised but other than that unharmed.

I'm not stupid, I know there is almost no chance that they are still alive. I might not remember much from the night, but I remember the guns from both sides. I can't believe I didn't have a dozen holes through me, but it's a far stretch to think that all three of us got out whole.

"I'm doing fine, thanks," I say. It's not the whole truth, but it's enough of it. Nothing particularly bad has happened lately, so I'm doing fine. Nothing particularly good has happened either, but might as well leave this fact out. Dorian is too kind a soul not to help me if I really need it, but I know he's stretched too thin already with his family to feed. I'd rather not worry him anymore.

"I better get back to the shop," he sighs regretfully. I know that he wants to help me, but he doesn't dare offer it either. His marriage is stressed enough, and his wife would kill him if she knew he was giving anything away to a street orphan. He doesn't owe me anything.

I nod and he turns to go, but turns back around a second later with a strained smile. "Take care of yourself, son. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too, Dorian," I call after him. I'm always grateful when he leaves, but then sad at the same time. I love seeing Dorian, he's the closest thing to a friend I have had in a long time, but I know I stress him out too.

The war was an easier time, as terrible as it is to think. At least then I had somewhat of a job, if one can stretch to call it that. Most people shied away from the bodies that lay with gunshot wounds in their heads and hearts that were tucked away in narrow alleyways. Anyone willing could get any number of things that could be sold from the corpses if they were willing to get over the terrible thing they were doing. A couple weeks on my own and I was way more than willing.

It wasn't so bad if you closed your eyes. In a way it was almost better than stealing from people that were still alive. At least you couldn't get whippings from taking from corpses. I wasn't good at going undetected, but dead people can't feel your hands in their pockets. As it turns out, I'm better at tuning out my morals than at tuning out the pain of whips.

It's amazing the things people can do when they have nothing. Survival is an instinct you can't control. No matter what you have to do, you won't just let yourself starve. If you see a way out you're going to take it. It's easier to forget your morals than the rumbling in your stomach.

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**Song: Hold Out Your Hand by Nickelback.**

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**A/N: Alright look at that, I am here again. I'm pretty stoked that I only have one more of these pre-reaping things to write and then I will get to begin with the cool stuff. Hopefully this chapter doesn't seem too rushed.**

**It would be very appreciated if you could leave a review for me to answer the questions below as well as give a general review on this chapter's writing. Thanks!**

_**What did you think of the tributes from this chapter?**_

_**Who are your favourites out of the tributes you have seen so far?**_

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**Next update will likely be this weekend, and since I will be off for reading week all next week I hope to get a few updates out fairly quickly. Until next time!**


	10. Borderline

**Frozen Warnings by Nico**

_Frozen warnings close to mine__  
__Close to the frozen borderline_

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**Pre-Reapings Part Eight**

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**Venice Durante, 18, District Four**

I gasp as I am suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling beside me. I sit up, startled, and just as suddenly a smile spreads across my face when I see the very book I was reading has fallen out of my hands and onto the floor.

I get up and frown, retrieving the book from the floor to see that I have lost my spot yet again. I lean up against a nearby bookshelf as I pick through the pages to try and have a guess at where I left off. The last thing I remember, a delivery runner had arrived at the house and Mr. Jackson had been just about to open the door...

Ah, I smile as I find the page and fold the corner of it back before closing it again. There is only a few more chapters left, but as eager as I am to finish the read I know that I have already spent far too much time in the story and far too little time actually taking care of the library. I blush at the thought of my father coming in and seeing me, asleep in the corner with a book in my hand, as if I had never grown up at all.

It's true that I probably haven't, not that I would very much like for him to see that. I am far more responsible than I used to be, but that isn't to say I still don't love to lose myself in a book for an afternoon. My father used to say that I caught the fantasy bug as soon as I first stepped foot in the library, and I suppose he would be right. I have loved reading for as long as I can remember. Everything from a nice, faraway fantasy novel with knights and kings to a history book that many would claim was far more fantasy than anything I read about dragons.

"Um, excuse me?" The voice behind me makes me jump and I spin around to see a young boy with a bored-looking expression and a messily written note in one hand.

"I'm so sorry," I blush. "What can I help you with?"

"I need to find something about," he begins, glancing down at the sheet of paper in his hand. "Photosenses. It's for school."

"Photosynthesis?" I try, holding back a laugh but unable to keep the smile off of my face.

"Sure, whatever," he rolls his eyes, seeming if possible even more eager to leave the library. "Do you have anything on that?"

"Of course, follow me." I lead him up to the rather small section that we have on science-related topics. Truth be told, it is the smallest subject area that we have books on even though it has always been an area that I found passion in. I've read every book we have about the topic at least twice, probably more if the book had any sort of grounds or applications that I could relate to.

I scan the titles for a few seconds before pulling a small book on plant life off of the shelf and handing it to the boy. There is another, much larger, version that would probably better suit whatever project he has but I think the short version will do the trick for him. He thanks me quietly and I lead him down to the checkout counter where he leaves a stack of two coins, his name, and a promise to have the book returned by the end of the week.

I jot down the information in the registry we keep under the desk and place the coins in the safe beside it. I don't really see the point in having the system in place in the first place since no one has ever even tried to steal from the library. Every time I have brought up the topic of taking it down my father keeps up the same argument. That the fact that we have never been robbed is proof his system works just fine and doesn't need any tuning.

_If it isn't broke, don't fix it. _I smile to myself, thinking about the sort of motto that my father has been saying at least since I have been old enough to remember it.

"Son, are you in here still?" I hear my father come inside and I rush to the front to meet him.

"I'm right here," I say as I jog towards him and take the top half of the stack of books out of his arms. He huffs something of a thank you and we carry the books over to an empty cart to dump them. I pick up one of them and leaf through it, amazed at its near perfect condition. "Wow, where'd you get all of these, they look brand new?"

"Old woman down the street just died, her son found these in an old trunk and decided he didn't have any use for them so he asked me to pick them up." He smiles as he props the stacks of books up neatly on top of the cart. "If you don't mind putting labels on these and getting them up on the shelves I would be very grateful."

"Of course, dad," I begin to say, but when I look up he is already halfway out the door. I sigh and start pulling the cart over to the desk. I guess he's just too busy to hang around. Today and every day.

* * *

**Sampson Ellios, 15, District Eight**

* * *

My stomach rumbling, I head downstairs and see my family is already seated around the kitchen table. My brow furrows and I raise my voice to try and be heard above the banter. "Hey, is lunch ready? Why didn't anybody call me down?"

The chatter continues and I slump down into a seat, deciding that it doesn't really matter anyway. I'm here and I didn't miss lunch, right? I intercept the passing of the bowl of casserole and spoon a couple of scoops onto the plate in front of me. Tyson shakes his head and grabs the bowl out of my hands. I give him a face but he doesn't much seem to notice.

"Could someone pass over the milk?" I all but yell, and this time my sister, Lila, hears me and shoves the jug towards me. I stand and retrieve the container and pour myself a tall glass before, yet again, Tyson takes the jug to fill his own glass. I roll my eyes even though it doesn't bother me much. I was done after all.

Everyone else finishes well before me, clearing their dishes away and scurrying off to their respective duties. My father running out the door to work, where he will probably be late for the third time this week. Lila grabbing her bag by the door and heading out to see her boyfriend. Tyson, well, who really knows where he goes all day.

"Can you do the dishes when you're done, sweetheart?" My mother calls over her shoulder as she heads upstairs for her afternoon nap. I don't even take the second to answer, knowing that she won't really care either way as long as the dishes get done before she wakes up.

I spoon the last few bites into my mouth and down the milk still in my glass. I sigh and get up, dumping the remaining dishes into the sink and starting the water. She wouldn't notice if I were gone for the day but I can bet she would notice if I left the dishes unwashed. I shake my head, the bitterness is nothing I'm not used to but it still won't help anything.

I glance at the clock as I finish scrubbing the last few plates and placing them in the dish rack. Shit. I promised Tater and Jackson I would meet them at one-thirty and it's already one-twenty. It's not like they probably won't expect me to be late again, I seem to have inherited that gene from my father, but I just hate to constantly make them wait.

I dry off my hands and decide to skip the shower today in favour of being just a few minutes late instead of a full hour. I run upstairs and grab a sweater off of my desk and pull it over my head as I rush down the stairs, nearly tripping down the last three steps. I step into my shoes and clumsily tie up the laces before running out the door. A few feet across the yard and I remember to turn back and lock the front door.

Just as I expected them to be, Tater and Jackson are sitting around the school yard when I jog around the corner. Jackson sees me first and slaps Tater in the stomach, pointing to where I am running from. "Hey! You're early, Sam!"

I laugh, knowing he has to be joking. The clock was five minutes to one-thirty when I left and it's at least a twenty minute run over here. Maybe he's making fun because I'm usually a lot later than this, but oh well maybe I'm just getting better at monitoring the clock.

"Oh, were you not expecting me?" I say sarcastically. "I can turn around and go back, maybe come back in about an hour or so when I'm really late."

Tater laughs and gives me a high five when I finally reach them. "Good to see you, man."

"You too, Tate," I smile. It's nice to be around my friends again, not that I usually go more than a day or two without seeing at least one of them. "What are the big plans for today?"

"Um, foiled," Jackson says shyly. I raise my eyebrow at him and he puts his hands out defensively. "I'm not allowed to go into town for a week after my dad found out about the bakery prank. He didn't find it as funny as I did."

I shake my head. Jackson is always getting into trouble in one way or another. A month ago it was a crazy prank idea that ended with half of his mom's garden going up in flames and then just last week the baker dragged him home by the ear without even stopping to wash the flour out of his hair. "I can imagine. The baker was pretty upset even when I stopped in a couple days ago to pick up a loaf. By the way I blame you that there was no change leftover to buy a sweet. He definitely overcharged me for the bread because he knows we're friends."

Jackson shrugs. "Your fault for being associated with me I guess?"

"It really is," I smile, not even able to keep up the facade of anger for a minute. Even with his, rather annoying, tricks Jackson is impossible to stay mad at him. Thankfully I have managed to avoid getting in too much trouble by him, but I imagine it's only a matter of time before a flour-coated baker drags me home one day.

"So, any luck with that girl?" Tater interjects, changing the topic over to me.

This time it's my turn to put my hands out, but just the mention of her makes it impossible for me to keep the smile off of my face. Sheria is a beautiful girl in the year above us, with bright red hair and a personality to match it. One of my school friends introduced me to her two weeks ago and I haven't been able to get my mind off of her since.

"Sheria?" Jackson laughs. "Forget about her, man. She's even more unattainable than Kyla, you know the girl you liked last week. Remember her?"

"You'll be the one that's laughing when I finally make my move," I say defensively. Maybe it's true that I have liked a lot of girls before her, but Sheria is different. Jackson and Tater always doubt my skills with even talking to girls, but I'll prove them wrong when the right moment comes along. What would these monkeys know about romance anyway?

* * *

**Ariella Saville, 14, District Twelve**

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"Ariella? Honestly, I know you can hear me, unlock this door right now!" I can hear my mother banging on the door from the outside but I don't even look up from the sketches I am working on. Why would I? It's always the same thing she wants to yell at me over. Is there really any point in me even listening?

I have locked myself in my father's study all morning, the only room with a working lock in the house, with only vague interruptions from my mother's insistent banging. Is it too much to ask to be left alone for once in a damn blue moon? I didn't think so, but apparently it is. I just want some peace and quiet but I guess I am not going to get that here.

I get up from the desk, shoving the papers and pencils into the pocket of my skirt and turning off the light. When I open the door, sure enough, my mother is standing right in front of me with her fists clenched and her face as red as a beet.

Before she has a chance to say a word to me I put up my hand to stop her. "I'm going for a walk."

"I don't think so, Ariella." She grabs my wrist and pulls me into the kitchen, sitting me down in the empty chair beside my sister, Mari. "This is getting completely out of hand. You can't ignore my every word. I am your mother!"

I roll my eyes when she isn't looking, and Mari shakes her head quickly. I know that she hates that I do this to our mother, but I honestly don't care at this point. What is the point in treating your parents like humans when they have proven that they are nowhere close to being even that.

It was one of the most recent nights of the war, when bombs were dropping like the leaves off of the trees. District Twelve was hit terribly on so many nights that it is hard to distinguish one raid from the next, but for many reasons this night in particular sticks out to me.

My family spent most of the war on the outskirts of it. My parents never officially chose a side, but it was fair to assume that they wanted the Capitol to be overthrown like most of the district. Twelve had never been treated well and the rebel force was strong here. Anyway, on this particular night there was a knock at the door and I cautiously went to answer it.

I was shocked to see Reian, a girl who was in my year at school. She pleaded with me to let her in, telling me that she had nowhere else to go. I know now that a bomb had been dropped just outside her home and the shrapnel had destroyed the building, as well as killed her two siblings and parents.

I remember feeling completely overtaken with shock as I pulled her inside, her sobs mixed with words of thanks.

As soon as my parents saw her they told her to leave. I told them that she was my friend and she was looking for shelter for just a night. They said no, that we didn't have the room. My father escorted her out as I screamed at him and my mother pushed me into the bedroom I shared with my siblings.

They tried to explain the next morning, saying that if they took in one war orphan than many others would follow her. That was the first time I have ever laid a hand on my father, slapping him hard across the face even as I cried and asked them over and over again how anyone could be so cruel.

"Ariella, could you pass the water?" Mari interrupts my thoughts and as I come back to reality I realize that I have almost broken the handle off of the water jug. I nod and hand it over to her, shaking teh soreness from my hand.

I can still hear my mother ranting quietly to herself from where she stands at the sink, but I hardly care to listen in. I know she is fed up with me, but in all honesty I am pretty done with her as well. They gave me time to get over that night, but is it wrong of me that I wasn't able to? I'm sorry but it's a pretty big moment to process when you come to realize that your parents are just like every other terrible monster that emerged from the war.

In my opinion they don't deserve my forgiveness, not that they have even asked for it. I'm sure if I asked them about it today they would stand by the decision they made that night. Maybe it's good that that happened. I was finally able to what two of my biggest childhood heroes were actually like.

I look up and see that all of my siblings are looking at me. I am the oldest of five, and I'm supposed to be the one setting the example. My parents always say I am acting more like a child than my six year old brother, Kael, but I beg to differ. Kael still childishly sees the good in people, no matter what they have proven otherwise. In fact, all of my siblings do. Even Mari who is only two years younger than me.

I don't want to be the one to ruin their childish views, but eventually they are all going to have to grow up.

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**Song: Frozen Warnings by Nico.**

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**A/N: This is the end of Pre-Reapings, wow. As fun as they were I am very glad to be done with them. Next up will be a sort of mashup between the Reapings and the Train Rides. It will make more sense when I actually post it, aha. Like I said this story is going to be very different from what y'all are used to. **

**So yeah, reviews would be great. Just answer the questions below and maybe include a little bit about how the writing was this chapter if you can spare the time. Thanks!**

_**What do you think of these final three tributes?**_

_**Who are your early favourites now that you have seen everyone?**_

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**That is all for now. I have two midterms on Monday (kill me?) so don't be surprised if I don't update for another week. It all depends on how studying goes! Bye.**

**EDIT: I have also created the beginnings of a Mentor blog, the link is on my profile (see Children of Blood) and let me know what you think!**


	11. Sorrow

**Fallout by Futureheads**

_You put me down with your thumb,  
I can see clearly that you point towards sorrow,_

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**Reapings**

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**Hollis Bale, 17, District One**

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"Keep walking."

"What are you doing, don't touch me!" The girl struggles beside me with her hands held behind her in handcuffs. A white clad Peacekeeper hustles her forward with one hand on her shoulder and the other on the top of her back. As anyone could tell, she is none too pleased about any of it.

I shrink back when I too feel a hand on my back, and try to only focus on my footfalls. I don't have time to think about any of what just happened right now, and even if I did I don't think I would want to. I don't even know what's going on right now. I don't even know where we are being taken to.

"How much farther?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It's strange to hear the fear in my own voice when I address the men escorting us. I can't even bring myself to look up at them.

"We're here," one of them says a moment later and I finally allow myself to look up again. I know where we are, though I haven't been here myself in ages it feels like. It's the train station in all of its dusty and dirty glory. I remember playing here with my friends when I was much younger. Those memories are quickly overwhelmed by the crushing realization of what is about to happen.

"Y-you're taking us away," I hiccup, my eyes wide as I stare at the approaching train. "W-where are we going?"

"You'll see when you get there," he replies. I feel his grip tighten on my shoulder as my body tenses, and that only makes me more anxious. Can someone at least explain to us what's going on? Where are we going? Why are they taking us away?

The wind from the train forces me to take a step backward and the Peacekeeper's grip tightens even further. The train is only a few cars long, not like the ones I remember seeing as a child. Or maybe I just remember them wrong, who knows it has been a while. It stops in front of us and as soon as I see the Capitol seal I almost immediately feel more calm. My mother promised me that the Capitol wouldn't ever hurt me, so at least I know that I will be safe wherever it is that I am going.

"Get on," the Peacekeeper holding Vera nods towards the open door. Vera hesitates to even make a move towards the train, but I step in quickly. As soon as I do, I am released from one set of hands straight into another. This time it is a woman, just as tall and built as her male colleagues, who grabs hold of me and leads me towards a nearby chair.

As soon as I am pushed down into it, the woman releases my handcuffs and straps my wrists and chest down in the chair. I am too stunned about all the security to do anything but let her.

Vera is shuffled in a moment later and seated in the same fashion about a foot to my right. I expect her to say something, as she had done most of the way here, but she remains silent.

"Don't try anything funny, tributes," the woman spits at us and then disappears around into another car. I don't know what she is expecting us to do with our hands and chests strapped down so tightly.

I feel the train begin to move again. It's almost impossible to notice the train's movement with the Capitol's technology, but it helps me to have something else to concentrate on for a while. We must have been moving for nearly ten minutes before Vera breaks the silence.

"What is even happening?" I look over at her and see her staring up at the ceiling, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

I am about to reply when the woman's voice comes over the loud speaker, making both of us flinch in our seats. "No talking, tributes."

I notice the train slowing down a few minutes later, and I look out the window to see that we are in another train station. I am even more confused than ever- I had spent time convincing myself that we were going to the Capitol. The woman comes back out from the other cart and opens the door.

A girl with dark skin and a long braid is pushed through the door and the woman catches her by the chain between her handcuffs. The girl flinches, no doubt that didn't feel good, and calls out at the woman to take her hands off of her. Of course, the woman doesn't even bother answering. She pushes the thin girl into a chair about three feet away from Vera's chair, strapping her in in the same way she did to us.

I catch the girl's eye for a moment when the woman is going to retrieve a tall, well built boy with a blank expression on his face. The girl looks away a second later and shrinks into the side of her chair as the boy is strapped in beside her. As the woman heads back to wherever she stays when the train is moving, I watch the girl glare at her until she disappears.

The train station disappears from the windows and once again it is a blur of sky, grass, and grey buildings as we move through the district. I have no idea who these three people are that are sitting around me, nor where we are going. All I can think of as I try once again to focus on the train's movement is that I, Hollis Bale have just brought the Hunger Games upon myself and I have not one clue what that means.

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**Melita Crescent, 15, District Six**

* * *

I don't think about it when I hear them call Radimir up to the stage. Suddenly, my feet are moving and I am standing right in front of the stage, looking up at my friend as Peacekeepers surround and handcuff him. His eyes are wide and terrified, and I am confident that mine look the same. I see Radimir grimace in pain as they pull him around to face the crowds.

I am already at the base of the steps that he was led up just seconds ago. I don't have time to think, I just have to get to him. To do what, I don't know exactly. I can figure that out later. I just need to rip those handcuffs off of my friend and get him home. Why are they treating him like a criminal when he has done nothing to hurt anyone?

It's not until I am halfway up the steps that I feel hands grab at me. I thrash against them, running up two more steps before I am taken around the stomach and dragged back down to the ground.

"No!" I screech. "Don't touch me, no!"

The crowd is silent, and it appears the ceremony has all but stopped. I catch Radimir's eye on stage, and I think that is what brings me back to reality. They're going to take away my friend. Whatever the Hunger Games are, they're going to happen to Radimir.

"Me! I'm the other tribute!" I try to yell with conviction, but it comes out broken. The Peacekeeper that had grabbed hold of me loosens his grip on me, as if he too is shocked by what I just said. No one seems to understand what is going on, to be perfectly honest I don't either. I just can't let them take my friend away from me. I can't sit by and let him suffer if there is anything I can do about it.

"It, well it looks like we have a volunteer," Mayor Hopkins says, very unsure of his wording. I expect that he was given a very strict script to follow, and now I have just ruined that. I don't even care. The relief floods over me when I am led to stand beside Radimir, so much so that I don't even struggle when they snap on the handcuffs.

"Are you out of your mind?" Radimir hisses. His face instantly contorts in pain as the Peacekeeper behind him pulls at his handcuffs, whispering something that makes any possibility of me answering the question obsolete.

It's impossible to ignore his eyes boring into me. Even when we are led off the stage and towards the dead end of District Six I can still feel his eyes on me. I have no idea what I have gotten myself into, but I know that there was no chance of me doing anything else. Whatever he is about to face, there is no way he is going to face it alone. We take on everything together, it's been a sort of pack since he spared me that time ago.

Besides, what would I do without him? Go back to a life of pick pocketing and sleeping with one eye open next to a trash bin? Nothing could be worse than that.

My breath catches in my throat as we are led into the ruins of what used to be the train station. Countless bombings targeted at it and the surrounding buildings have left the station in shambles. As we walk through the only standing part of the building, a thick arch, I see that there is already a train pulled up.

I swallow hard and the air around me goes even more silent as the understanding dawns on me. They're taking us away? Where are we going? I hardly have time to process the whirl of questions that tornado in my brain before the Peacekeeper behind me gives me a solid push and I unwillingly step into the car.

Instantly I get the feeling of eyes on me, and I turn to my left to see about ten other people around my age already seated in the car. Upon closer inspection, I notice the restraints on their wrists and chests along with the fact that every one of them is silent. If it didn't feel as though my breaths were suffocating me I might have said something just to break the crushing silence.

Another tough grip takes me and marches me down the aisle between the others, pushing me down into the nearest free seat. As soon as I hit the seat, the woman goes to work with the restraints. I am too stunned by the quick, mechanical nature of her movements to do anything but watch.

Radimir comes into the train as soon as the woman has left me and gone to stand at the door again. She leads him in in the same fashion, harshly and quickly, and within minutes he is sitting right beside me. Strangely enough, even in this bizarre situation it is enough of a comfort to me to have him here.

Just as I am about to say something to him, the woman pipes up like she had read my mind. "No talking."

I try and cast an apologetic look over at Radimir, but he doesn't allow me to catch his eye. I can understand that he wants to keep to himself right now. It was a huge shock for me to hear his name being called out in front of all those people, so I can't even imagine how traumatic it was for him. I'll leave him to his own for however long this trip will be, but as soon as we get where we are headed I need to talk to him. Until them I have time to consider all the questions swirling around my mind; like where are we going, who are these people, and what exactly have I just gotten myself into?

* * *

**Flint Calloway, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

This entire day has felt like nothing more than a terrible, terrible nightmare.

Waking up to the sound of my mother furiously knocking on my door, telling me that I am supposed to be at the ceremony in an hour. Standing in the crowd of kids and teenagers, staring up at the mayor as he delivered a very vague explanation of what the Hunger Games are. Everyone had their own theories about what they were, but none could be proved or disproved by the information that we have been provided with so far.

Well I guess that doesn't matter, I am going to get an up close look at what they are for myself as soon as I get... wherever I'm going.

I sneak a glance at the girl sitting beside me, Ariella Saville. Just like every other time, she doesn't even turn her head to acknowledge that she sees me. Also like every other time, I am glad that she doesn't. Ariella is a pretty girl, and I am certain I have tear stains on my cheeks. There is no one I can think of that I would like to see me this way, especially not a pretty stranger.

I study her out of the corner of my eye, knowing that I have nothing better to do during this trip. She has been staring straight ahead for the entire time so far, her lips pressed into a very narrow line. I half-wish that we would be allowed to talk, seeing as she doesn't look particularly antisocial and it would likely make the time go by faster.

I guess I will have to be content with simply looking around me. That is what everyone else seems to be discretely doing, but being the last person to get on the train and therefore having the very back seat I definitely have the best view. For some of them I can see nothing but the back of a blonde head or half of a face, and others I can see pretty much all of them.

Especially easy to view without looking like I'm trying to are the pair to my left and the pair directly in front of me. Beside me there is a boy that looks to be a few years younger than me with tan skin and dark hair. He stares down at his feet intensely, as if caught in deep conversation with the dirty laces of his shoes. I feel terrible for him because if I can go just based on looks I'd bet that he is the youngest one on the train so far.

Beside him is a pretty girl with blonde hair and pale skin. She looks to be at least a year or two older than me, and she looks around without seeming to care who notices. When she sees me looking at her, she turns and raises one eyebrow at me. I turn my attention to the pair in front of me, unable to force myself to meet her eyes for another second.

The one sitting right in front of me, also at a seat beside the window, is an older boy with bright blonde hair and blue eyes that I have seen a couple times when he tried to turn around against his restraints. The way his eyes search around like a lost animal makes me feel worse for him than the little boy staring at his shoes.

The girl beside him is easier to see without her having to turn around. She looks more or less to be the same age as me, with blonde hair and almond eyes. She hasn't really looked around much, but I have caught her sneaking a look up at the blonde boy and the others around her every once in a while when she manages to tear her eyes away from her hands.

The others are more difficult for me to see. I note a few in less detail than the four around me. The blonde girl in the second row whose hiccupping sobs have become the only noise I am able to hear other than the breathing of twenty-four closely packed people. The boy with the blue bowtie and dress shoes who has tried at least twice to get the attention of the woman who seems to be in charge here.

Suddenly I can feel the mood in the train begin to rile up again and I find myself wondering what is happening. My question is answered when the scene in the window comes back into focus, no longer a blur of grey, green, and blue. Instead I look outside and see a big slate of all light grey in front of me.

I hear a door open behind me and a stream of Peacekeepers files in from behind me, another coming in from the front of the train car. One of them rushes to free Ariella from the restraints, hustling her off of the car seconds later. Another unlocks my wrists and chest, and pulls me to my feet. My legs wobble under my weight as he slaps on a pair of handcuffs, no longer used to standing after the long time sitting. That doesn't seem to matter, as I am half dragged off of the train behind the blonde haired boy.

My head spins as I am led through brick hallways and into a tiny room. We stand there for a moment, and then leave- suddenly on a brighter floor with windows and natural light. I have just about found my voice to be able to ask where I am being taken, when the Peacekeeper opens a door and pushes me inside.

I am met with total darkness as the door closes behind me. I feel so vulnerable, unable to feel my way around the area with my hands tied behind my back. I sink to my knees and press myself up against the door, the bright light forcing my eyes closed when the darkness is finally filled.

* * *

**Song: Fallout by Futureheads.**

* * *

**A/N: What did I say? It's definitely not the Reapings y'all were likely expecting. I hope it was good though, I am a bit nervous about how different I made this chapter. I also really like it and it makes me excited for the rest of the Capitol, when you will all get to see what my mind can come up with given such freedom. **

**Good luck. **

**So yeah, there will be one POV per tribute in the Capitol and then the Games will begin. Hopefully you are all still reading and liking the story, I'm working hard to get updates in (even updating when I am supposed to be studying for my two midterms tomorrow). **

**Reviews are always appreciated if you have the time to leave me one. I'd love to hear your answers to the following questions as well as a general idea of how my writing is coming out. Thanks!**

_**Has your opinions of Hollis, Melita, or Flint changed?**_

_**What did you think of each part of the chapter?**_

* * *

**Don't know when the next update will be, hopefully not too long from now. To those of you waiting for **_**Iridescence, **_**I expect there will be an update tomorrow or the next day. We hit a bit of an issue but it shouldn't take too long to fix it. **


	12. Breathe

**Middle of Hell by Queensryche**

_Head reeling, I guess I wasn't dreaming.  
Heart racing. Hard to breathe._

* * *

**Prep One**

* * *

**Kyra Lacasse, 14, District Ten**

* * *

I close my eyes as the lights turn on, the brightness feeling like needles stabbing into my eyelids. The wall feels cold under my fingertips as I reach out for something to hold onto. The material is nothing like I have ever felt before, it's dry and smooth, definitely not like the stone my walls are made out of.

It takes almost a minute before I can force myself to pry my eyes back open. Even then, part of me would rather keep them closed. I blink spots from my eyes and wait as the room focuses around me.

I am in a room that is no wider than I am tall, with a piece of cement chained against the wall that sort of looks like a bed. The walls, ceiling, and floor tiles are all stark white and appear even brighter bathed in the light coming from the disk on the ceiling. The only other pieces of furniture in the room are a small table and a single chair, both coloured to match the rest of the room.

I don't even want to touch any of it.

I keep one steady hand on the white wall near the door as I stand, unable to do anything except simply stare at the room. I don't have time to suppress the scream before it echoes through the room as the door flies open to hit me in the back. Immediately I jump forward, nearly stepping onto the bed in my panic.

When I turn around I see a very surprised looking girl who looks to be at least twenty years old. She has long, wavy blonde hair and narrow eyes and almost everything about her screams 'expensive'. The pink dress that hugs her body, the dotted scarf around her neck, even the shiny shoes on her too-small feet. The style of clothing isn't something I can recognize as coming from my district, or likely any district at this point.

My eyes widen. The only people that would be able to afford such luxurious style are the Capitolites. Without meaning to, I take a step backwards away from the woman.

But wait, if she is here... does that mean that I am in the Capitol? Is that where they brought us to in that train? I can feel my heart beating a hundred miles an hour in my chest and for a second I think of how ironic it would be if I died of a heart attack right here, after they had gone through so much trouble to bring me here.

"Kyra?" The woman says unsurely and I nod, my lips not wanting to cooperate with speech at the moment. "Oh good, I was afraid I might have the wrong room. They really should label the outside better, I had such a terrible time finding you and I get to do it all over again to find August when we're done. Joy."

August, that's the blonde-haired boy that came with me from District Ten to here. I never spoke to him, but I wish I could have. He looked so lost on the train just looking around at anything that moved. Not that I likely looked much more comfortable, but still it was difficult to watch.

"Who are you?" I say. Well I mean to say it in my regular voice, but it comes out in such a quiet whisper that I almost feel the need to repeat myself in case she didn't hear me.

"Oh, silly me forgetting to introduce myself," she says with a wave of her hand and a roll of the eye. "I'm Reina, Reina Hulins. I'm your mentor."

"Mentor?" I am even more confused than ever. First there is this strange woman in here that somehow knows my name, and now she's my... mentor? What does that even mean?

"Oh right, they said none of you knew much," she laughs and then clears her throat as if she had practiced this speech a million times over. "I'll be your mentor as you journey through your preparations for the 1st Hunger Games. If you have any questions or concerns I will be here to answer them. Basically I'm going to babysit you and make sure you at least sort of know what you're supposed to be doing."

I must still look pretty confused, because she continues talking after a few seconds pause. "Look, I'm just supposed to stop by and say hi tonight. The real work starts tomorrow so best get some rest. I have to go and do this all over again, so I'm going to head out now."

"What am I supposed to do? Just stay here?" I say quickly. I don't even know this woman but somehow the thought of her leaving makes me panic. I don't want to be alone in this place, I don't even know where I am.

"Bed's over there, press that button if you need to go the washroom," she says pointing to a small almost unnoticeable dent in the wall just above the bed. "I'll leave the television on for you."

On her way out the door, Reina presses another button by the door and a large screen flips out of the wall across from the bed. A second later, the black screen flickers to life with color and I am staring at a Justice Building that definitely isn't District Ten but looks eerily similar to it. My eyes widen as I see a dark-skinned man take the microphone on stage and announce the very thing I heard my mayor say earlier this morning.

"Good morning District Seven. It is a very exciting day as it is the very first time we will be sending in our brave tributes for the 1st Annual Hunger Games. Today, we begin history anew."

* * *

**Jonah Lintell, 16, District Seven**

* * *

I'm not sure how, but even amidst all of this chaos and confusion, some lady I just met ten minutes ago has managed to make me feel safer than I have in a long time. I'm not sure if it's the tiredness or panic that is swaying me in her direction, but I could almost hug her right now. Honestly, I don't even think she would stop me if I tried. Unlike everyone else that I have dealt with today, Cateline seems to actually care and even somewhat understand.

"So how are you feeling?" She asks, tilting her head just slightly towards me. Just the sound of her voice makes me feel like all of the stress of the day is just melting off of me. I think it's the softness of her words, or maybe the way her eyes look at mine as if she were actually interested in my response. It reminds me so much of how people would speak to me before the war happened and I lost everything.

No one wants to look at a street kid. It's like they're afraid of catching it. It's been so long of me living like that that I think I've forgotten how it used to be when people talked to you as if you mattered to the world.

"Confused more than anything," I murmur. My eyelids feel like they are collapsing in, but I fear that if I tell her that I'm tired that she will leave me. I couldn't have spent more than an hour in here by myself, but I am in no hurry to do it again. I feel more uneasy in this little room than I have on any night I spent sleeping in an alley.

"That's what I'm here to help with," she smiles. "Tell me what's confusing you and I'll explain it as best I know how."

I consider this for a moment before speaking. "Why are we all here?"

She opens her lips to talk and then closes it again, the look in her eyes reminding me of the look on the man's face right before he told me that I was the only survivor when the shelter collapsed. "I'm not going to sugar coat this, okay? You need to know everything so that you can protect yourself."

I nod but say nothing, the beating of my heart making it impossible to even consider speaking.

"You're here to punish the districts. It was determined that the tragedy that happened during the war was not enough. That's why you're all here, a boy and a girl from each district." She swallows thickly before continuing, never breaking eye contact. "In four days all of you will be transported to a sectioned off, outdoor arena. The Hunger Games, as they have deemed this event be called, will end when only one of you is left."

My heart drops into my stomach and I instantly feel sick. She didn't even have to say the words, I can fill in the blanks enough to understand. "T-They're going to kill us."

"No," she breathes. "You're going to kill each other. That's the point of it, that the Capitol is not the enemy. That we are not to be blamed for what is going to happen."

I can feel my entire body shaking and it's not easy to ignore the burning feeling that sits over my skin. "But the Capitol is to blame. They're the ones doing this. They made this... this thing."

She shakes her head. "You're very smart, Jonah, but they're not going to make it look like their fault. If you kill someone in the arena, they're going to show it like you are the monster. Not them."

I try to say something else but the thoughts can't mould themselves into words. Two kids from each district, so twenty-four of us, put in an arena where we're supposed to kill each other. We're not murderers, by what I heard back home none of us is older than eighteen. I am almost able to comfort myself in the fact that it seems so impossible that any of us will be able to do the deed.

"None of us will do it," I whisper, realizing that I am not sure if I believe it. I don't know any of the people here, not even the girl, Merryn, that I was reaped with. How do I know that none of them would kill me if it was there life on the line? I don't. I don't even know if I would be able to refuse to do it if those were my only two options.

"I'm sorry, Jonah," she chokes and for the first time I see the tears in her eyes as she leans in and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "They have the power and they are going to make sure their game works. I wish there was something else I could do for you and Merryn and, well, all of you guys, but there isn't. You know as well as I do what power the Capitol has. I am so sorry."

I put a hand over my mouth and try to blink away the tears. I look up from the floor for a second and as soon as I catch Cateline's eye I completely break down. She cautiously moves closer to me and I all but collapse into her, tears falling freely for the first time in a long while.

"I don't want to die," I whisper through my tears.

Her arms tighten around me. "I know, and you better believe I am going to do my best for you."

It feels like centuries that I cry into her sweater, probably leaving marks of dirt from my face all over her expensive clothes. I pick my head up and sink back into my chair, blinking hard to try once again to stop the tears. "I'm sorry about your shirt."

* * *

**Verden Arell, 16, District Nine**

* * *

"I swear if you try to come anywhere near me I will tear this thing off the wall and pound it into your head," I spit, pointing at the slab of concrete hanging off the walls by metal chains. I'm fairly sure it's supposed to be a bed, but I'm not sure I would give it that much respect.

The woman stands in the doorway with her hands up defensively. By the look on her face it doesn't look like she expects me to actually go through with my threat, but unfortunately for her I am dead serious. I don't know who she is or what she wants with me but I am not going to let anyone else just come and get me and take me where they please. I honestly don't care that no one has offered me a choice in any of this insanity. I'm making my own choice and that is to get these people the hell away from me.

"Calm down or I'm going to have to call the guards," the woman says, the boredom evident in her tone. We have been in this sort of stalemate for several minutes, and it doesn't look like things are going to change anytime soon. I want to ask her who she is, but I feel like that would be giving up in a way. I'm not taking any more of this shit. They're not going to push me around like they have been all day. I'm sick of it. I want answers, but I'm not willing to give up my defensive stance.

"Go ahead," I dare her, keeping both feet planted firmly on the white tiles and both hands balled up into fists at my sides. I'm not afraid to fight her or any of the guards she keeps threatening to call on me. I would have tried getting a few punches into the Peacekeepers back in District Nine if I hadn't been handcuffed so quickly. Now that the restraints are off, I am absolutely positive that I am not going to let them put them back on easily.

"You really don't want that, Verd," she sighs. "But if you insist-"

I don't let her finish the sentence before I throw myself at her. She doesn't even know me, how dare she use the nickname my friends and family call me by. How dare she! Both of us crumble to the ground under my weight and I try to bring my fists down onto her face but she blocks every one with unexpected strength.

I am pulled up from the ground before I even realize the guards have come in. There is one of them on either side of me, wrestling with my flailing arms as I try to shake them. A third snaps a pair of handcuffs on my ankles and then gets to work trying to get them on my wrists.

The woman sits there calmly and dusts off her shoulders before standing up. She looks at me curiously, but oddly enough doesn't look in the least bit surprised or even angry. As the guards finally manage to put the second set of handcuffs on she even takes a step closer to me.

"I like the toughness. Keep that up it will help you in the arena," she says calmly. "I'll advise you not to turn it on me, though. I'm not the bad guy in this situation, and unfortunately I'm one of the only people you'll be meeting that is better for you to keep alive."

I furrow my brow but have no response. I didn't expect her to be so calm, and somehow the fact that she is makes me even more furious and helpless. I wish for another moment that I had been able to punch her in her smug little face, and yet her words make me almost admire her. She has the most guts out of any woman I have ever met.

She turns to leave and then stops mid step as if she had forgotten something. "My name is Petra. It was very nice to meet you, Verd."

My hands tighten once again into fists and I can feel the guards' grips on me tighten as well. I realize now that there is no getting out of whatever I have become involved in. I almost call out to stop Petra from leaving, but I can't bring myself to abandon the last shred of dignity I might be able to salvage from this encounter. Besides, if she came around this time I expect she'll be back.

As I watch Petra disappear around the corner, I almost forget about the three guards around me. "Are you quite done with this?"

"Sure," I say, suppressing the snide comment I so badly want to make. I don't expect it will get me anywhere, but I still don't feel good about giving them the satisfaction of subduing me so easily. Still, I let them sit me down on the bed and undo the cuffs around my ankles.

"What about these?" I ask, turning my back slightly to display the handcuffs still around my wrists.

"We figured you could keep those for a little while longer," the shortest of the three guards says with a slight grin as they all turn to leave. I grit my teeth once again to avoid screaming at all of them, this time because I know that it won't change anything and it would probably make them all feel even better about themselves.

They close the door behind them and I hear the click of a lock, confirming what I already figured out. That I am stuck in here until they decide to let me go or move me or whatever they're going to do. It may have only been a day, but I'm already starting to figure out how things work with these people. I'm at their disposal, and nothing I do is going to change that.

I sigh and sink into the hardness of the bed, separated from me by only a few thin blankets. I might as well get comfortable. I have no idea how long I am going to be here for.

* * *

**Song: Middle of Hell by Queensryche.**

* * *

**A/N: Another chapter so soon? Yes. Mostly because I have an essay due in about six and a half hours and I am procrastinating something fierce. Oh well, at least it means updates for you guys! I expect that this chapter will show even more how different these Hunger Games are going to be. Honestly, this is just the tip of the iceberg so get prepared. **

**Basically I have a lot of school work to do so that will (oddly enough) likely mean quicker updates because I love avoiding completing my responsibilities. **

**If you have the time to I would very much appreciate a review answering the below questions and also providing a general review on how the writing was this chapter. **

_**Have your opinions on Kyra, Jonah, or Verden changed at all?**_

_**What do you think about the changes to the Capitol structure that you have seen so far?**_

* * *

**That's basically it, now I guess I am off to write that essay.. **

**Bye. **


	13. Extras

**Cannons by Kaiser Chiefs**

_They treat us like we're extras in an epic  
They treat us like we're mud on their boots. _

* * *

**Commercials**

* * *

**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

* * *

The door swings open and slaps loudly against the side of my bed. I am up a second later, shrieking in surprise as I stare back at the man I met last night. He looks almost as terrified as I feel, but I don't see a reason why he should. After all, I am the one that was just woken up out of a cold sleep to the sound of a strange man bursting into my room.

"Quick, get up we have things to do today," he says after he collects himself a bit.

"Did you ever consider knocking?" I say, still trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

He looks at me like he doesn't expect my response. "No, not really."

"You really should."

"I'll note that," he says, waving off the idea. I'm sure I should expect the same lovely wakeup call from Pascal for the rest of my time here. It's not like I am particularly mad at him, he proved to be at the very least someone that knew what he was doing, but I had just found a comfortable enough position to sleep in. I couldn't have gotten more than a few sparse hours of sleep last night. I should be exhausted, yet I am oddly alright with the prospect of leaving this room.

"Our studio time starts in an hour and we haven't even begun to talk about what your angle is going to be or how we're going to present you." He looks almost as tired as I feel, but his voice is strong and awake even if his eyelids are drooping.

"Studio time? Present me?" These are just two of the questions that run through my head. I remember him mentioning a lot about public appearances last night, but my mind was far too cluttered to take in most of what he was telling me. Especially after he explained what the Hunger Games really are. Understandably, it was difficult to think of much else after that one.

"I'll explain on the way, we've got to go now," he says, rolling his eyes at my questions. Well what does he expect? "I should have sent a Peacekeeper in for you, would have taken less time."

"I'm glad you didn't," I mumble. I'm not much a fan of the white-outfitted guards, especially after yesterday. So far, Pascal isn't too bad but if he starts sending Peacekeepers after me I'm fairly certain it wouldn't take me long to change that opinion.

"I know," he says. "So come on, move it."

I stand and follow him out the door, fully counting on him to lead me around the bleak tunnels that look a lot like longer versions of the room I stayed the night in. I make mental notes that some of the doors are marked with a number and either an 'f' or and 'm'. Pascal explained last night that a male and a female have been taken from each of the districts, so I assume that those labels mark where each of them is being kept. I find myself wondering if I'll ever have to meet any of them and shudder at the thought. I'm not very good at meeting people, especially those that are supposed to be trying to kill me in a few days.

That thought still seems insane to me, but I brush it off as best I can. I've spent too much time already dwelling on it. If I'm going to get anywhere in this place I know I'll have to play by their rules, and that first means being present of mind enough to learn them.

Pascal opens a door and I am unsurprised to see the white walls and small dimensions as I enter in behind him. The only pieces of furniture in the room are a couple of comfy-looking white chairs and a large table. Pascal takes one of the chairs and I don't bother to ask before taking the seat across from him. He showed me last night that he isn't much one for formalities and neither am I.

"Alright," he says after as I am taking a seat. "Pretty much we're going to have two hours with a camera and a stylist to film a commercial-type promotion video that will be shown across Panem for the next few days. It's supposed to tell us some stuff about you, your past, and what people can expect from you in the arena."

"That seems a bit stupid," I say bluntly. Not only that, but it's also rather invasive. Who says I want a bunch of random people to know the details of my life?

Pascal sighs. "Just work with me, Santana. It's not optional. Also I think it'll be good for you to make an impression, I already explained how important that is last night so I won't repeat myself."

"Fine," I say simply if for no other reason than to avoid an extended argument with him. I've already seen how little respect myself and the others have been shown since even before we arrived here. I don't expect it would be a good outcome if I were to fight with him.

"I already have a few ideas based on the character I've moulded for you, but I need some finer details too," he continues. "Tell me something about yourself that people would remember."

I almost laugh out loud at the request. How he said it so simply as if I were just as eager to tell him about my life as the Peacekeepers were to handcuff me yesterday. I am not and never have been an open book, and I'm sure he's been able to tell as much just from meeting me. The idea that he thinks I will just open up for him at a second's notice is ridiculous.

I said I wasn't going to fight this, but maybe a little resistance won't hurt me too much.

* * *

**Sampson Ellios, 15, District Eight**

* * *

I see Aubin shaking his head from behind the camera before half the sentence is even out of my mouth. I stop and sigh, waiting for him to tell me what I'm doing wrong this time.

"I don't believe a word of it, Sampson," he says. "Not a single word."

"I don't know what else to do," I insist. We have to have been going at this for at least a good half an hour, and according to him we don't have even one good line to put in the commercial. I don't think it was possible to miss that little room, but I do. At least I was being hidden away in there instead of paraded on camera as if I am supposed to be happy about being taken away from my life.

He motions me over to the table behind the camera and takes a seat across from me. "These lines are terrible, you're not feeling them. We need something that you mean."

I shrug. I don't think it really matters what they make me say. Aubin says the point of this is to convince people to like me and vote on me in the polls that will be happening the night before the Hunger Games really begin. I don't see how telling them about me is going to make them like me. "Does it really matter if this turns out well?"

"More than you could imagine," he sighs. "This is a television show, and I imagine they'll be making a point to keep around the favourite characters. We just need an angle for you, Sampson. Something that will make you stick in their minds as they watch your progress this week."

"I'm sorry I'm not more interesting then," I say quietly.

"Stop," he tells me, putting the notes he took earlier on the table. "These statements we came up with this morning are good. You just have to think they're good too, or no one will even think twice about you."

"I know they're good," I lie.

"Okay, trying something new. Think about your family, the people back home for you. Pretend you're talking to them, it'll help you feel more natural about it than just knowing you're talking to the camera."

"If I was talking to my family they wouldn't even be listening," I say quietly. "It wouldn't feel natural to even try to talk to them like this."

He sits back in his chair and looks at me for a second. I recognize the look on his face, and it only makes me wish for that little room even more. I don't want his pity. I don't need him to feel bad for me or tell me that he's sorry I feel that way. I've heard it before when I tried talking to Tater a long while ago. Pity isn't anything I desire or need. I should have just gone along with what he said and not said anything about it.

"Then here's what we do," he says finally. "You're going to do exactly what I said and talk to your family with these statements. And you're going to pretend that, for maybe the first time, they have no choice but to listen to every single word you're about to say."

I think about that for a moment then nod. The idea sounds almost crazy enough that it would work. I stand back up and go towards the panel with the District Eight seal hanging down behind me. He starts up the camera and I take a few seconds to picture Tyson standing in place of Aubin. His eyes locked on me just like Aubin's.

"My name is Sampson, and I am the male tribute from District Eight for the 1st Annual Hunger Games."

I am surprised at how steady my voice feels, and in front of me Tyson smiles. For the first time since we started filming, no one calls out to tell me to stop and start again. The next line comes out just as easily, as if it was something I would say naturally. Then the next, and the next. Still Aubin doesn't stop me. Every new line makes me feel even better about it, and before long I am saying the final line and the one Aubin was most proud of.

"Nothing has stopped me so far, and I honestly don't see that changing anytime soon."

The body high after I have finished talking is like nothing I have ever experienced before. I thought the lines were pretentious to say the least when Aubin showed me what he came up with, but I can almost start to believe I'm as unstoppable as I just finished saying I am.

I hear a slow clapping and I look over to see that Tyson has vanished and instead it is Aubin that smiles back at me, his hands coming together in slow rhythm. I can't help but smile when I see the look of surprised satisfaction on his face. I hope that means I've done well enough. It felt better than any of the other times, I was kind of even enjoying myself a little.

"That's what I mean," Aubin grins. "I couldn't have done it better unless I said the lines for you."

"Thanks," I beam.

"It's a good thing, too," he goes on. "Our time is up in two minutes, they're bringing in the girl from Four next and I'd hate to make Fanchon wait. She wouldn't be too happy with me if I did."

He motions for me to follow him and I sigh and step towards him. Just before I close the door to the studio behind me I take one more look at the camera. I'll miss the thing. It was nice to feel like someone was really listening to me.

* * *

**Danican Tobin, 16, District Three**

* * *

"I should bring an Avox in here to massage his shoulders," I hear Alaire saying to the stylist that's been helping her work on me all day. "Maybe then he would relax."

The stylist says nothing and shrugs. I have hardly heard the old woman say a word all day. I would think she was mute except for when I asked her the time and she replied. She seems to be a lot kinder than Alaire, at least from what I can tell. Maybe that's just because all my mentor has been doing since she came and got me this morning is yell at me.

I sigh and try to make my shoulders relax but it seems impossible. I can't help that I'm on edge. So much has happened since yesterday morning. Before then I had never even been in half of District Three, and now I've traveled by train across the country and have ended up in the Capitol. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling about all the sudden changes, but I don't think calm is supposed to be it.

"Honey," Alaire says and when I look up I realize that she is speaking to me again. I am still standing in front of the District Three seal with a few scrap pieces of paper in my hands. I tried for a little bit to memorize them like she asked me to, but I had to give up after a few tries. Her writing is so much different than anything I've seen before, all frilly and connected. I can't read it very well.

"Yes?" I say quietly.

"Do you think we can try that first line again?" She asks sweetly and then turns back to the stylist. "Maybe the twelfth time is the charm?"

I shrink back at the comment. I want to do what she asks and just get out of here, but it's impossible to even pretend to be comfortable here. "I can try."

"Perfect," she says. "Try to relax this time, it'll make you seem more natural on film."

"I'll try," I whisper.

She walks in front of the camera and stops strangely close to me, making me take a subconscious step backwards and nearly knocking into the screen. She looks me up and down as if she were seeing me for the very first time. "Why so nervous?"

I shrug, not exactly sure how I am supposed to answer the question. I personally feel like I have sufficient reason to be nervous. After what Alaire told me about the Hunger Games last night, I think it's fair of me to feel scared. I've been trying to get a hold on my emotions, especially after spending much of yesterday in a blank, shut down state.

I jump when she snaps her fingers in front of my face. I stare at her with wide eyes. "Did you hear my question?"

I blush, realizing that I forgot what she had even asked. Something about nerves? "I don't know."

She brings her hand up to rub at her temples as she stares back at me, saying nothing for a few seconds. "I don't know what to tell you."

"I'm sorry," I reply, though I'm not exactly sure what I am apologizing for.

"This is new, I know this. But you have to get comfortable, at least somewhat. The people we are going to show this commercial to don't care that you're nervous or scared or whatever you are. This is television, we have to make you a character that they are going to root for. Do you understand?"

I consider what she's saying and nod. She went over this last night. I remember her telling me that she and the other mentors are likely going to be the only ones to try and know us as people. The rest of the nation, especially the Capitolites, is going to be made to see us as characters. She told me some of what she plans to do to create my character sketch, but if I'm already failing at my first task do I really stand a chance at earning any favour?

I sigh as she returns to stand behind the camera and I take one more look at the script she had written up before I was even awake this morning. The line is simple enough, just basically saying my name and district. Why is it so difficult for me to talk about myself?

Maybe it's because I don't want them to know about me. I've already been taken away from my home and my family, told that there is a very good chance that I am never going to see a familiar face again in my lifetime. They're not allowed to have any more than that. It just isn't fair of them to try and take myself away when they have already, maybe unknowingly even, taken so much.

"Okay, whenever you're ready," Alaire says again, but even the look on her face tells me that she doesn't expect this performance to be any different from the last dozen. I consider telling her exactly what I'm thinking, with the cameras going and everything. I don't want her to take this moment and display it across the nation like she plans to. I don't want people that I don't know or people that took me away from everything I've ever known to pretend that they have a reason to hope that I live. They don't even know me. Most of them likely don't care to either.

I consider saying all of this, but I know I wouldn't be able to. As cowardly as it may seem, I know that I have to get serious about doing what I'm told. My life has allowed me to only be present in the worlds I want to be present in, but this is different. If I disappear from this world it isn't like one of my dreams. If I let myself leave the present... well, I might not ever come back.

* * *

**Song: Cannons by Kaiser Chiefs.**

* * *

**A/N: I'm expecting a bit of mixed feelings about this chapter, so I'll explain a bit about how I came up with this. I wanted something different that would more closely match the theme I am going for with this story. The Capitol people, for the most part, do not want to have anything to do with the district people so I don't think many would be eager to go see them in a parade. **

**Basically, people are still getting used to the idea of the Hunger Games and the commercials are a way of the government sort of shoving it down their throats. They'll be played all over Panem all during the week, along with other related broadcasts. It's meant to get people used to seeing and recognizing the tributes before the Games actually begin.**

**So yeah, that's my basic thought process. If y'all have any other questions about it I'd be happy to discuss it with you. I just figured the above was enough to put in an author's note. **

**Anyways, I'd be super happy if you would consider leaving a review (unfortunately they seem to be going down in numbers every chapter which is sort of disappointing). Just something short to answer the below questions and maybe just give a general review about how you think the writing was this chapter. **

_**Have your opinions changed about Santana, Sampson, or Danican since their Pre-Reapings?**_

_**What do you think of the commercials setup (please be honest)?**_

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**That is all for this chapter, see you all in a few days with the next one. Bye. **


	14. Obscurity

**Blackened by Metallica**

_Throwing All You See  
Into Obscurity._

* * *

**Mentor Discussions**

* * *

**Ariella Saville, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

"Morning."

The sudden voice makes me scream as I awaken from a light sleep. I jump to sit up and press myself against the cold, white wall. Even after seeing Bayard standing in the doorway it takes me a moment to calm my racing heart.

"Did I scare you?"

"Yeah," I breathe, staring at him with wide eyes. I've seen him a few times now and I still can't get used to Bayard. He just has this intimidating look about him that makes me want to get as far away from him as possible. It's not that he's even done anything, really. I almost feel bad for feeling like this.

Then I remember where he's from and all the guilt fades away. He is, after all, part of the Capitol. The people that took me from District Twelve and raced me through a bunch of weird activities that are somehow supposed to prepare me to die on television. I didn't like it much in District Twelve but being trapped in this place for so long has me feeling a bit homesick.

"I'm sorry," he says, not waiting for an invitation before taking a seat in the chair that faces my bed. I don't move, keeping the thin sheet wrapped around me even though it's anything but chilly in here. Part of me wishes he would just leave and yet a different part is eager for some sort of company, even if it's from a Capitolite.

"You have the day off today so I let you sleep in," he explains. I nod, not really knowing what to say. It almost sounds like he is expecting a thank you, which is oddly enough the last thing that I'd even consider saying to him.

"They were supposed to have the training centre open today but things got delayed," he continues. "They promised everything would be ready by tomorrow, but we have the day to plan at least."

"Haven't you already done that," I say raising an eyebrow. Every time I have seen Bayard so far he has already had a clear plan about everything. During the commercial shoot yesterday I hardly had to give any input besides a few little details about my life. Everything else he planned in advance. I find it completely unthinkable that he wouldn't already have my every moved planned from here on out.

He eyes me for a moment as if he were considering asking what I meant, but he doesn't. "We have to consider alliances. Many of the other mentors are trying to arrange them. I think it would be good for your chances if we can find someone that you can trust enough to work alongside."

"I'm not working with anyone," I say immediately. It is completely out of the question. Even the mention that I might need to trust someone makes me laugh. I have done just fine trusting no one for a good chunk of my life, and how valuable is trust really when my life is on the line? I have not yet talked to one of the others, Bayard cannot possibly expect me to trust any one of them with my life.

"I need you to consider it," he says again.

I pause for a second and look up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. "Answer hasn't changed I'm afraid."

"I really think you should consider this, Ariella," he insists. "You're one of the younger ones here. There are older tributes that are going to look at you as an easy target. You need to have someone to back you up. I'm not going to force you to have an alliance, but tomorrow in training I am going to ask you to look and see if there's anyone you might be able to work with."

I can tell that he is going to keep talking until I agree to at least look, so I do, but that doesn't mean anything. I remember the people I rode on the train with to get here. They're all strangers from different districts. I don't know anything about them and I'm not going to learn much in a day or two. There is no possible way I am going to trust anyone with my life except myself. Period.

"Also," he begins talking again as if he just remembered something very important. "I don't know if I am supposed to tell you yet since the voting is still taking place, but your commercial went over well with the viewers. So far you're speculated into the top ten, which is much better than I expected."

"Excuse you," I say, somewhat insulted. I'm not really sure why it's good that I am in the top ten, but I don't see why he wouldn't expect me to be. He said I did well with my lines yesterday, and I guess that's all I needed to do. I guess the Capitol eats up those phony lines and toothy smiles.

"I expected Flint to do better than he did, but your results surprised me more I think."

"Flint?" I say, half-wondering why the name sounds familiar despite never remembering meeting anyone with that name.

"Your district partner, the boy about your age that was also Reaped from District Twelve."

I think back to the train ride but I can hardly even remember his face. I was so focused on keeping myself in a good state of mind after the shock of being reaped and then transported so quickly. I don't even know if I would be able to pick out his face if they lined up all the others in front of me. I almost feel bad that I can't remember a thing about him.

"How did he do?" I ask, not quite sure why I want to know.

"By what people are saying he's one of the last places," Bayard says calmly but I see his smile falter just a bit. "Let's not get into that, let's concentrate on you and I'll worry about Flint later."

* * *

**Harlan Pearce, 12, District Eleven**

* * *

The soft knocking on my door is enough to bring me out of the fitful sleep I had somehow managed to let myself fall into. I shoot up from my bed and am on my feet within seconds. It takes a moment of looking around me to remember where I am, and who is knocking.

"Bette?" I ask, not sure if she can hear me through the door.

The click of a lock lets me know that she must have, and sure enough I see her blonde head peek into the room a couple seconds later. As always she has a sweet smile spread across her lips and her bright eyes wide open.

"Good morning, sunshine," she chirps, coming in and closing the door quietly behind her. I relax when I know for a fact that she is alone. The first time I saw her she had brought a flock of Peacekeepers with her, which put me even more on edge than I already had been. I think she took what I said yesterday morning to heart, about preferring to be as alone as I am allowed to be.

"Good morning," I nod shyly, sitting back down on the edge of my bed as she takes the chair across from me.

"I brought you a little treat," she smiles, looking around slyly as if someone might be hiding in the small room watching us. She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out three delicately wrapped circles which she pours into my hands. They're light and hard, looking like nothing I can remember seeing before.

"What are they?"

She smiles and lets out a giggle. "Why they're candies, silly. I brought them to cheer you up, you still seem unhappy here."

She says the last bit with a regretful sigh. I almost feel guilty, almost, but she's right. I am unhappy here; actually I'm terrified and shell shocked and so many other emotions that I didn't even know it was possible for me to feel. There's no way I can say any of that to Bette, not after she's been so gentle with me and now brought me gifts. "Thanks, Bette."

"You're welcome," she beams. "I hope it starts your day off well. I know it's hard, but I want you to be happy here, Harlan. In any way that you can be."

I smile shyly and put two of the candies down beside me on the bed, tossing the last one between my hands. She gives me a questioning look and I stare down at my feet. I know she is expecting me to open it and eat it, but I kind of want to save it. I haven't had candies for a long time, not since I left my district for Eleven. Not since my parents were still alive. I feel like just the taste will bring back memories that I don't want to think about with someone else around. I'd rather be alone to remember.

I put the third candy beside me with the other two and look up at my mentor, hoping that the gratefulness is evident in my eyes. "Really, thank you. I think I'm going to save them for later."

Her smile drops for a second and I feel a wave of guilt that takes longer to dissolve than it does for the sweet smile to return to her face. "Well you have the day off today since training has been postponed, so I thought we could just talk for a little."

"That sounds nice," I say, not really sure what else to say. I've done more talking in the past couple days than I have in months, seeing as no one was quite fond of chatting with street kids.

Luckily, Bette seems to know what to say at all times. "I'm looking into alliances for you, talking with the other mentors and such, but I wanted to ask you if there was anyone you had your eye on for an alliance?"

I shrug. "I can't really remember anyone except Eileen."

"I can see if she's interested," she says eagerly. "She has a few other requests I have to go over with her later this morning anyway."

"Do I have any requests?" The words are out of my mouth before I even have the time to process whether or not I am ready to hear the answer.

She looks surprised at the question, and once again her grin falls. "I haven't spoken yet to the others today, so I'm not completely sure. I'm expecting a few probably before the end of training."

"So none," I say, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I don't honestly know why I expected there to be any, after all I am the youngest possible age that a tribute can be. Why ally with someone so young and so small when you can have someone big and strong to stand behind. I shouldn't be so disheartened to hear that no one wants to be my ally, but I can't help the heaviness that it leaves in my chest.

"Don't lose hope, Harlan," she says, quick to put the smile back on her lips. "There are still a few days before anything will be finalized, and of course you can always form your own bonds in training tomorrow."

I nod and try to return her smile, but the action feels weird. I drop my gaze down to my lap and play with the edges of one of the candy wrappers with my fingertips. I don't want Bette to see me look so defeated, but I can't help it. I feel defeated and it's hard not to wear my heart on my sleeve. Especially when I've never been one to be able to fake a smile.

* * *

**Dallas Audrinne, 17, District Five**

* * *

"I'm not having an alliance."

I say the words with my eyes locked on Warren's so that he knows how serious I am. The very idea that he wants me to look into the few requests I have gotten from other tributes and mentors is ridiculous. I am not going to trust someone that has this much incentive to put a knife through my neck. No matter what stupid argument Warren has for the idea.

"Honestly you're being ridiculous," he sighs. He hasn't been in my room for more than fifteen minutes and already he has managed to piss me off more than most people have been able to in seventeen years of knowing me.

It's honestly just something about the man that puts me on the defence before he even says a word. Although I know now that I have every right in the world to hate him. After two days of him constantly demeaning my opinions, saying that I don't have enough world experience or real education to make my own decisions about important things. Personally, I don't see how he would know anything about survival. Especially with his coddled Capitol life. I'm far better qualified to decide for myself, and if he thinks I am going to listen to a single demand he makes then he has a few surprises coming his way.

"It's not your decision," I spit back at him.

"It's my job to instruct you on what's best for your survival," he replies, his back straightening and lips pressing into a thin line. "If you have any thoughts about living through the next few weeks I would suggest you take my advice."

"I'm not having an ally," I say as calmly as I can. The worst thing about talking with him is how flustered he is able to get my by hardly even saying anything at all. I keep trying to not let him get to me, but every time I see him I break that. It's just something about him that so easily gets under my skin.

It's probably his personality. I have always had an intolerance for bullshit.

"Well I already accepted the offer from the District Seven mentor," he shrugs, giving the sideways smile he has given me every time he goes behind my back to 'do something for me'.

"You did what?" I don't even think about taking the hatred out of my words. This is beyond anything he has done before. I've told him every time he has brought up the subject that I am not going to even entertain the possibility of an alliance. It takes every ounce of willpower not to slap him right across his smug face.

"You weren't going to listen, and she is the ideal ally," he says, seemingly unaware of my outburst. "From what I have observed of her and what her mentor has said, she is exactly what you're looking for. Very keen, intelligent, quiet-"

"One problem," I interrupt before he can say anything more about her. "I'm not looking for anyone."

"Not anymore, Merryn Celtey is exactly what you need to boost your ratings," he replies.

"I don't want an alliance!"

"Merryn is currently standing in the top five in viewer ratings, the public love her. She is composed and poised and, well, pretty much everything you're not. You need her. You've been falling in your ratings since after your commercial aired."

"Maybe it was those stupid lines you had me read," I shoot back.

"I doubt it," he says sharply. "Regardless, you need a way back into the public's good books and she is just that. They love her and if they associate you with her then I'm hoping that will bring up your rating."

"I don't care about some stupid rating."

"You really should." He pulls at the tie around his neck and sighs again. "I heard that they are considering introducing sponsorships after the Games begin. Wealthy people will be able to send in money to buy things that will tip the odds in favour of their favourites."

"I don't need gifts," I snort.

"Oh but honey you do." He leans in close and puts his hand on my knee, which I promptly swat away. "And don't trick yourself into thinking that this thing is going to go down fairly, because I can promise you it won't. Though I'm certain they don't want a hero for a winner, they also most definitely don't want a villain. Don't act all high and mighty like you don't need to kiss Panem's ass to win."

I am taken back by his words, but I don't allow the surprise to show on my face. I will not, no matter what I do, let him think he's won me over by his fancy speech. I roll my eyes as if I couldn't care less what he just said, but I can't ignore the lump in my throat or the heaviness that has settled on my chest.

I'm no sell out, not by a long shot. I've always been me and nothing less, nothing more. It's been something I have always prided myself, the fact that I can honestly tell myself that I have never changed to suit anybody's needs. I've been a take it or leave it kind of girl since forever and a day. I don't have any desire to stray from that mentality. I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I did.

But I also know that can't live with myself if I'm dead.

* * *

**Song: Blackened by Metallica.**

* * *

**A/N: I wasn't planning on updating this week, but I sat down and started writing and ended up finishing the chapter. I'm not sure when the next update will be, life is hectic right now. Hopefully things will be back to normal around this time next week with respect to updates. Don't quote me on that, though. **

**I know a lot of you have been wondering in your reviews about it, but yes there will be training (next chapter). Don't expect it to be anything like the training you read about in Suzanne Collins' book. This is the 1****st**** Hunger Games, remember that. **

**Thank you to everyone that has continued reviewing, and any of you who recently started. They are very helpful for me, especially with this story being a bit outside of expectation for me. I like to know what you think of the changes I have made, whether you like them or absolutely think they are stupid! **

_**Has your opinion about Ariella, Harlan, or Dallas changed from this chapter?**_

_**What do you think about the Mentors? Who are your favourites so far?**_

* * *

**So yeah, like I said, not sure about my update schedule for the next little while. Hopefully I will update sooner than I am expecting to, but we will have to see. Until next time!**


	15. Heed

**Planets by Avenged Sevenfold**

_Take heed, the violent march is closing in,  
You can't defeat them on your own._

* * *

**Training**

* * *

**Adriel Maynard, 17, District Five**

* * *

It seems like we all just arrived in the training room a few minutes ago, and already my alliance options are dwindling. I guess it's my own fault for being so picky, not that I could have ever brought myself to make such an important decision at the drop of a hat. I'm a planner, always have been, but even with all the nights of staring at the television in my room looking at the other tributes I still don't have the slightest clue who to choose.

I think I might be running out of time.

Already I can see the small groups of tributes huddled around various stations in deep conversation. Some of their names I can remember, but most of them evade me completely. There is the blonde girl from District Three who seems to have allied herself with the girl from District Nine and Hollis, the boy from District One. Unfortunately that's one of my strongest options gone. Hollis Bale was initially my first choice, seeing as his volunteering peaked my interest and probably helped with his ratings. The possible impulsivity was the only thing that turned me off of him. It doesn't matter anyway, seeing as both the girls he is with are near the bottom of my desired ally list.

Another one of the tributes I was interested in is also already joined into an alliance. Santana Belmont, the girl tribute from District Two, who appeared so calm and collected in every frame I saw her in. I would have preferred Hollis to her, personally, because though her silent strength might come in handy it also makes her difficult to read. I don't quite fancy an alliance where I have to question what the others are thinking, I'd like to know by looking at them.

Not that it matters what I think of her anyway, she has been hanging around with the boy from her district and Venice Durante from District Four. In all honesty, the alliance looks strong and I might have tried to move myself into it if I was more certain I would be able to control them all.

I need people between Hollis and Santana. Someone that has their emotions written on their forehead, but also someone that would be able to do what I need them to do. Unfortunately I'm running out of options.

Dallas, the girl from my district, rushes past the station I am sitting at. Following close behind her is our mentor, Warren, who is mumbling something under his breath. Warren has already told me about his annoyance with the girl, how she doesn't do anything that he tells her to do. I don't see why she wouldn't, personally. His advice makes sense to me and I almost always agree with what he tells me. Maybe that's why he's opted to leave me alone, knowing I don't need supervision to accomplish what I need to today.

I decide to get up and walk around again. I was told that training would last until four o'clock today, and it's nearly ten now. I have time, but not much. I had planned to have my alliance members sorted out half an hour from now so that we could spend the rest of the day actually training. By the looks of things, I am going to have to alter my schedule a bit.

I pass by a rather technical looking station, which is occupied by far more stray wires and metal scraps than tributes. I've passed it by a few times, and the station's only occupants have not changed except when a mentor stepped in to talk to one of the boys. I don't remember either of their names, and it took me a while to even match them to their districts- Three and Seven. Neither made much of an impression, but I guess it makes sense that two mediocre tributes would end up in an alliance together.

I am just about to continue on when a loud beeping sound makes me pause again. The boy from Seven throws a clear bubble over a small metal piece on the ground and the two boys scramble away from it. Not seconds later, a loud _bang _echoes through the room making everyone look over. I look at the spot of mat under the bubble and see that it the metal piece has made a smoking crater in the floor under it.

Suddenly I'm a bit more interested. As the two head back over to the bubble I decide that this is the perfect opportunity to introduce myself.

The boys go back and lift up the bubble, the boy from Three looking shocked at the mess underneath it. I step onto the mat and take a few steps closer before speaking. "Wow, what was that thing?"

Both of them look over their shoulders at me, but it's the boy from Three who speaks first. "I don't even know. I built the casing earlier and Jonah here said he could make it work."

The boy from Seven, Jonah presumably, shrugs.

"That's really impressive," I say, making sure to add as much awe as possible into my voice. "I'm Adriel by the way, and you are?"

"Danican," he says, and I extend my hand to shake his. I note the millisecond of confusion that flashes over Jonah's face when I reach for his hand, but I don't comment on it for obvious reasons.

"Would you mind if I hung around with you guys?" I ask, feigning a bit of shyness. "I haven't really had any luck with this kind of thing, but maybe you could show me a thing or two?"

Jonah gives Danican a somewhat odd look but I pretend not to notice it. I look at Danican expectantly and after a second of silent exchange with Jonah I get my answer. "Sure thing, Adriel. We'd be happy to."

* * *

**Carina Ricter, 14, District Eight**

* * *

This whole training thing is kind of weird to me. Aubin said it was going to be important for us to learn skills that would help us in the arena, but so far it looks like everyone is just sitting around and talking. Not that I'm complaining about finally being let out of that awful room I've been cooped up in for days. Believe me, I'm glad to be out of there. I'm definitely not used to being so restrained, and I don't like the feeling at all.

"Hi!"

I scream and jump nearly a foot in the air, my hand grabbing at the side of the platform I am sitting on at the same time that another hand reaches out and grabs the back of my shirt to keep me from taking the twenty foot plunge down the climbing wall.

As soon as I am no longer in danger of falling, I spin around to face a girl about my size with her long, blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail. Her eyes are wide and one hand is covering her mouth, the other still holding tightly to the back of my shirt. "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

I nod, still a bit too stunned to speak. I don't recognize the girl, but apparently she recognizes me. "You're Carina right? District Eight?"

"Yes," I nod, almost apologetic that I don't know her name. I'm not sure how I would considering I've never seen the girl before, but still.

"Oh thank Panem," she says, the shock dissipating off of her face to be replaced by a wide smile. "I'm Kyra and I'd like to be allies."

The confidence in her statement almost makes me laugh. I like Kyra, she seems like a good time. Even reminds me a bit of one of the girls I was friends with during the war when I got to live in a barracks with the other runners. I only just met the girl, but I find myself accepting the offer a few second after she makes it.

"Oh good," she sighs, letting out the long breath that apparently she had been holding. "Man, that was way harder than I thought it would be."

I giggle but the sound is cut short when Kyra jumps past me and over the edge of the wall. I hurry to the edge and stare down, terrified that I am going to see my new ally lying on the floor with a broken arm or leg.

She is on her feet and I sigh in relief. "And that was a lot easier than I thought it would be."

"Are you okay?" I call down at her, already pretty sure of my answer but certain that it's polite to ask it anyway.

She looks up at me with a smirk. "Of course! Come on!"

I begin climbing back down the wall before Kyra calls up at me again. "It's not that far of a jump, it didn't hurt a bit."

With nothing really to lose, I allow myself to drop and hope at the very last second that I will land on my feet. The impact comes and I bend my knees to absorb it. I brace for some sort of pain, but I guess Kyra was right. It wasn't nearly as high as I thought.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my breathing a bit unsteady from the fall.

"We need more allies," she says simply. "I know exactly who, too. I think his name is Harley? I don't quite remember. He looked nice. I think I saw him hanging around somewhere over there."

I decide not to argue with her, even though I'm unsure about meeting more people so quickly. It's impossible to doubt her, though. She seems very sure about what she's doing, so I just follow her over to the far corner of the room. I only see two tributes there, sitting near the edge of a mat with a couple of discarded knives between them. I have to guess that one of them is Harley.

Kyra seems uninfluenced by the fact that they are clearly in conversation. Just as she did earlier with me, she jumps right in and sits beside them. "Hi, I'm Kyra and this is Carina."

I raise my hand in a small wave when the two boys look over at me.

"I was wondering if you two would be interested in an alliance?" I am oddly appreciative of her ability to get to the point so quickly. It makes the awkward meeting a little bit shorter, at least.

"Um, hi," one of the boys says shyly.

"Hi," Kyra says again slowly.

The two boys look at each other and the taller of them shrugs. "Sure, I'd be in. My name is Flint."

"I'm in if he is," the second boy says. "I'm Harlan."

"Perfect!" Kyra exclaims then turns to me. "I guess we're done, this is all the people I think we need."

I smile and shrug, not really sure what to say. Harlan looks just as uncomfortable as I feel, but Flint's face almost perfectly mimics Kyra's excitement. Not sure what else to do I go and sit across from Kyra and between Harlan and Flint. It's silent for another few awkward moments and then Kyra jumps to speak as if she had just remembered something very important.

"One more thing before we make this alliance official," she says. "My mentor told me to find people that I can count on, so I need all of you to promise me something."

"What's that?" Harlan says unsurely.

"I need us all to promise that we're never going to leave anyone behind," she says seriously. After a second she puts her hand out into the centre of the circle.

Flint is the first one to meet her hand. "I promise."

"I promise," I say solemnly, putting my hand delicately on top of theirs.

Harlan puts out his hand after another second of hesitation. "I-I promise."

* * *

**Radimir Ankratij, 17, District Six**

* * *

I feel bad after ignoring Melita on the train and now these few days of not seeing her, but I meant what I told her this morning about needing to spend today working on training alone. I'll see her in the arena anyway, if what Cavin told me is true.

The main thing I am worried about is allies. I know that Melita is not the most socially apt person in the world, and first impressions are everything with such a small timeframe to meet people. I am definitely not even considering leaving her out of the alliance, but I think it would be easier for all involved if I find the rest of our members on my own and introduce them to her later.

She seemed alright with me asking for some alone time, but of course she has never said no to me before. I saw her sitting with a makeshift fire pit in front of her, head down to avoid anyone even considering coming over to talk to her. That's just how Melita is, it's very hard to get her trust. But I know she at least somewhat trusts me, and I can just hope that she will be okay with having others around because we need other people.

I've always been more extroverted than she is, but it's not just my social needs that have helped me make this decision for us. Out of the two of us, Melita is the more likely to be able to fend off another person and I don't like that. I want there to be someone around that is able to protect her, maybe even just so that I won't have to make the fatal decision to try.

"Hey." The voice is soft and I almost think I imagine it because I don't immediately see anyone around me. As soon as I turn around, however, I nearly have a heart attack. Just inches from my nose is a girl with blonde hair and wide eyes. I don't recognize her by name, but I know that I've seen her around or at least on the television in my room.

"Um, hi," I say in response, my heart still beating quickly from the scare she gave me.

"I was wondering if you'd like to, you know, talk," she says sweetly, nodding with her head towards a nearby wall where I see a brown-haired boy standing alone.

My forehead creases in confusion but I shrug as if I completely understand what she means "Who's asking?"

She sighs. "Vera. Come on and I'll introduce you to Verden, he wanted me to come see if you'd be interested."

"In?" I ask even though it's pretty clear what she's implying. My heart rate increases, this time for a completely different reason. Maybe I won't even have to look for allies for Melita and I. Perhaps I'm just that good that I can get them to come to me.

"He'll explain," she says, rolling her eyes and taking me by the arm with a smile.

When the boy, Verden I assume, sees me approaching him with Vera I can see the beginnings of a grin come to his lips. He reaches his hand out and I take it, giving it a firm shake. "Verden, nice to meet you."

"Radimir," I say in response. "She said you wanted to talk to me."

"Thanks Vera," he says, tossing another grin towards the girl. "I'm in need of trusted people, and I've been watching you. I think we might have some shared values."

"What would those be?" I try to make the question sound nonchalant, as if I might already understand what he means by it. The truth is, I'm not completely sure. Him and Vera look capable, though, tough even. I would not be opposed to having them on my and Mel's side if a fight were to break out.

"Look," he begins. "I'm sure you mentor has explained why we're really here, why the Capitol brought us here. It might sound a bit obvious to say, but I don't fancy dying this young and I can bet you don't either. Whatever it takes, we're going to make sure that one of us makes it out of there. We're not going to wait around for someone to do what's going to happen, we're going to beat them to it."

"Kill them before they kill you," I swallow, sudden understanding taking over. This is even better than I could have hoped for.

"Precisely," he says, grin widening. He reaches out and slaps his fist against mine. "So can I count you in? Three's the magic number I've been hoping for."

I'm about to answer when I hear another voice enter the conversation. "So this is why you didn't want to be around me today. You were afraid I'd mess up your alliance."

I spin around and see Melita standing a few feet away, her fists clenched and her eyes glazed with unshed tears. "Melita? No that's not-"

"I don't mind," she says, but the crack in her voice gives her away. I take a couple steps towards her and reach out to her, but she slaps my hand away from her. "Have fun, I'll be just fine. Not that that probably matters to you."

"Melita you're being ridiculous," I say, grabbing her shoulder again.

"Take care," she says, the anger and hurt making her voice sound distorted in my ears. She rips my hand off of her and turns away from me, taking quick steps away.

I begin to follow her, but a hand on my shoulder stops me. "Leave her, you're better with us anyway. Someone that emotional isn't going to be good for someone like you."

I wipe the hurt off of my face before I make myself turn to face him. "Someone like me?"

"Someone that has a chance," he breathes. I want to scream at him to take the words back, but the apologetic look on his face stops me. I look once more over my shoulder and see Melita already approaching a curly-haired boy with his nose buried in a thick book. It sure didn't take her long to move forward, but that's also just how Mel is.

I nod in agreement and allow Vera and Verden to lead me around to another training station, all the while wondering how Melita could think I would do that to her.

* * *

**Song: Planets by Avenged Sevenfold.**

* * *

**A/N: This was definitely one of my favourite chapters to write. I know that the tribute interactions have been severely lacking, and will continue to be until the arena really. It's just the way I have the Capitol set up. Anyway, hope this chapter was up to standard!**

**Lots of alliances fit into one chapter, I know. Hopefully it wasn't too confusing. I have posted all of them on the blog, but I'll list them here as well just as a refresh for all of you.**

**August/ Eileen**

**Carina/ Kyra/ Harlan/ Flint**

**Hollis/ Jalissa/ Leina**

**Vera/ Radimir/ Verden**

**Melita/ Sampson**

**Santana/ Connor/ Venice**

**Danican/ Adriel/ Jonah**

**Dallas/ Merryn**

**Loners- Ariella and Caprice**

**Hopefully any of you still reading will take the time to leave me a review, each and every one is appreciated. I'll put some questions down for you guys to answer, should you find the time to do so. **

_**Have your opinions on Adriel, Carina, or Radimir changed from this chapter?**_

_**What do you think of the alliances? Any predictions for how they'll work out?**_

_**Favourite alliance?**_

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**Also very exciting news is that we are now over halfway done the Capitol, with only three more chapters and then we will be in the arena. I'm pretty excited about that, I don't know about you. Anyway, see you all next update. **


	16. Colors

**Something's Gotta Give by OneRepublic**

_And then you showed yourself  
All the colors that you fear._

* * *

**Conference Prep**

* * *

**Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven**

* * *

"So, Miss Garreti if I may call you that." I roll my eyes at the dramatic voice Bette is using. "What would you say will be your greatest strength in the arena?"

I try and think of something clever to say, like Bette has been trying to get me to do for most of the morning, but once again my mind comes up blank. I shrug and she sighs, sinking down into the chair across from me.

"You've got to give me something, Eileen," she says and I almost feel guilty about it. It's true that she has been trying to help me get comfortable, everything from the silly voices and dramatic strutting across the room to resorting to calling herself Sir Interviewer the Great. I appreciate what she is trying to do, but I honestly don't think I'm ever going to be ready for this.

"I'm sorry, Bette, I'm really trying."

"Oh no don't say sorry," she shakes her head. "If I can't get you ready for the conference tonight it should be me that's apologizing."

"Not at all," I shrug as if it really doesn't matter how I do tonight. "I'm just not good at this structured stuff."

"But you will be," she smiles, grabbing my hand and looking at me sincerely. "By tonight."

"If you say so."

"Are you nervous maybe?" She wonders aloud. "There's not need to be, you're not on stage alone. All twenty-four of you will be there together, so I'm sure not everyone will be looking at you if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not nervous," I interrupt, mostly to stop her rambling. Bette seems to take this too far to heart, me not doing well even with her practice questions. I wish I could do better but I really don't think I'm made for this sort of thing. I just don't have answers for her questions.

Well I do, but they're far too truthful. By what Bette has told me about the conference tonight, it's kind of a big deal. All twenty-four of us seated in front of a live audience, taking questions from call in viewers of audience members for two and a half hours. It's the last chance that we have to make a good impression or I guess, if what Bette has said about my current standing is true, keep it up. I really don't think I can afford to mess this up as badly as I am right now.

Bette has been very honest with me about not knowing what kind of effect the viewer rating's will have on the tributes, but I've come to the same conclusion as her that it's much better to be safe than sorry. So far she said I am sitting somewhere between second and fifth, but that is subject to change depending on what happens tonight.

Suddenly I remember what I asked her to find out for me last night. "Did you ever get a look at August's rating?"

"Yes!" She says excitedly, and then her face drops for a moment. "Shoot what was it again? I just looked at the boards this morning."

I let her think about it a bit, all the while trying not to be on the edge of my seat about it. I took an instant liking to August as soon as he told me that my hair looked like his sister's when it was done up like a rope. It made me laugh to hear him call a braid a 'rope', even with all the tension that training had brought upon me. We hung around together the entire time, basically just talking about how much we missed home, and just before we left he ran up to me and asked if this meant we were allies.

He definitely doesn't seem like the shiniest coin in the bank, but I'm glad to have someone who can make me laugh. I'm not used to things being so serious all the time.

"He was definitely in the top ten, but I can't remember where he was as of this morning," Bette says apologetically.

I let out an audible sigh of relief. That is all I needed to know, that both of us are currently on the favourable side of things. I don't like the idea that my performance tonight might make or break the Capitol's favour towards us as an alliance. At least if August is also up there in the ratings it means we have two chances. I also can't see him doing badly at something like this. He's so genuine and likable that I think he could go up there and tell the viewers just about anything and they would eat it up.

"You seem happy about that," Bette giggles. "He's a nice boy, eh?"

"Not like that," I say, a little more quickly than I meant to.

"Of course, of course," she says with a smug smile. "I don't condone an onscreen relationship, but if it's going to happen then I guess that's just how it is."

"It's not going to happen," I assure her. Even if I did like him in that way, which I don't, it wouldn't work out anyway. I don't know much about what the arena is going to be like but I am almost certain that it is not going to be a field of daisies for us to run through. I'm not going to throw that sort of complication into things, no matter what Bette thinks.

* * *

**Connor Leland, 18, District Two**

* * *

"What is your greatest ambition in life," Pascal reads off of the list. The complete lack of interest in his voice makes it difficult for me to find any sort of passion to throw into my voice. The first dozen or so questions he read well, gave me plenty of energy and intensity to put into my replies. Now I feel like this whole routine is getting a bit repetitive.

I consider the question for half of a second before answering. "I hope to have a family of my own one day, someday build myself a life where I am completely and consistently happy with all of the people I love."

Most of the answers I have given have been based solely on what Pascal has told me that the Capitol is looking for in them. This one rings a bit more true than most, but on his advice I added just a bit more fluff than I would have liked to. It was weird the first few times because it felt so fake, but Pascal assured me that people are expecting me to be larger than life. I hope he's right or I'm going to look like a pretty huge dumbass.

"Very good, though you could fix the little snark in your voice," Pascal says, his face finally changing from the bored expression to his usual half-smile.

"Didn't know I had any?" I say with a shrug.

He laughs. "Hardly any, I don't think anyone but me would notice. You're doing well."

"Thank you," I say and I mean it. Pascal claimed that I was a natural just minutes after we started, but I think he was just surprised by my performance after spending most of the morning practicing with Santana. As strong of a threat he has told me that he thinks that she will be, he has also confided in me that she has the appeal of a candle holder.

That's why I think we clicked so easily even after only spending a few hours with each other yesterday. We are similar enough in that both of us are strong spirits, but she is also pleased to let me be the spokesperson which is nice because I am definitely better at it. Add in Venice, the reserved boy from Four that Pascal arranged for us to meet, and I can't see anything not working with the three of us. We're all slightly different versions of the same person, with all of us accounting for something that the others might lack.

"Alright back to business," he says, glancing down at the printed list of questions on the table. "What is your opinion on the establishment of the Hunger Games?"

"I feel like whatever our President says needs to be done, must be done." This answer leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I understand without being told that outwardly opposing the event would not help me whatsoever. Even so, I hope that I never have to be on camera with those words coming out of my mouth.

"Good answer," he mumbles and I nod. "What was your life like back in District Two?"

I don't even miss a beat before I answer. "I was very lucky, I had an amazing life. Two wonderful parents and a younger brother and sister. Lots of friends and just a good life. I have no complaints."

Pascal doesn't say anything but gives me an odd look when he looks up. I feel slightly more vulnerable, the dreamlike expression dissipating off of my face. I'm surprised at how much it hurts in my chest to think about my life. My _old _life. I blink back a sudden onset of tears that gather in my eyelids and hope that Pascal didn't have a chance to see them.

"Moving on," he says and I am instantly grateful, hoping that we will go back to the questions about my favourite foods and whether I preferred girls with long or short hair. Things that didn't actually matter to me. "What was the war like for you?"

My mouth goes dry and I'm afraid that I won't be able to answer the question at all for a second. I collect myself after what feels like a very long moment, doing my best to choose my words carefully without blatantly lying. "I was training to be a soldier for the last part of it, but I was never really in the thick of things."

"A soldier?" Pascal says, and if I didn't know any better I would think that some of the surprise on his face was actually genuine. "What was it like fighting for your Capitol?"

"I was a district soldier," I say immediately, not able to keep the pride from my voice. "Or almost was."

He sighs. "How did I know that?"

"Lucky guess? Or the fact that most of the Capitol soldiers weren't district kids."

"Okay," Pascal says, looking at me sternly from across the table. "We're going to have to lie a little. If this question is brought up tonight, I need you to say you were fighting for the Capitol. No one is going to know otherwise I can assure you."

As if that were my biggest concern about this. "I'm sorry but I can't lie about that."

Pascal stands from his chair and I match him, keeping our conversation at eye level. "This isn't about your pride. You are bargaining for first place in the viewer ratings tonight. This is about you making it out of this place and going back home in a couple weeks."

"I don't care." It's impossible to keep the intensity out of my voice. Pascal begins to say something else but I stop him. "Nothing will make me say that, I'm sorry."

"Connor, sit down," he says sternly. "I'm not going to argue with you on this. You are exactly where you need to be right now. Do not let your idiotic pride ruin it."

"Don't tell me what to do," I spit, anger beginning to creep into the edges of my vision and turning them red. Who does he think he is? I clench my fists on the table, the urge to punch him right in the jaw slowly becoming more than I can bring myself to resist.

Not seconds later the door bursts open and I am flanked on all sides by guards. I stare at Pascal, my gaze never wavering as they escort me out of the room and down the hallway.

* * *

**Caprice Neviere, 16, District Four**

* * *

I gasp again as I feel a tight yank on my hair.

"Sh, sit still," the woman says in a thick accent from behind me. I nod in reply and she forces my head back so that my eyes are at perfect level with the mirror. I close my eyes for a second, trying to block out the pain of the comb ripping through my hair.

"What do we want for her tonight?" The stylist asks. Fanchon leans down and examines me, her face so close to my skin that I can feel her warm breath on my ear. I resist the urge to back away, as she has already chided me about doing more than once just today alone. She says it makes me look cowardly, always shying away from anyone that comes close.

"Her hair is too short to do much with," Fanchon sighs. "Pity."

"We could boot around for some extensions, if you'd like," the woman replies, her fingernails combing through my hair and sending chills down my spine. Just the sensation of another person's touch is enough to make me want to take off and run. To where, well I'm not really sure. Ideally back to District Four, but I don't really know how I would find my way back.

If I found anywhere near water, a lake, a pond, a stream, I don't care, I would be happy. I miss the openness of my parent's house, and even more the freedom that the boathouse allowed me. I hate being trapped in such a small room for most hours of the day. Though I would choose my prison cell over being where I am right now, every single time.

I'm not used to having people around anymore. It had been months since I last had contact with anyone before I was Reaped. The experience of being pulled up on stage in front of all of District Four was one of the worst things I have ever gone through. The train ride here was like paradise after that. My little room like a safe haven in comparison to having so many people staring at me with eyes that felt sharper than a butcher's knife.

The memory of that morning still makes me shiver, but the feeling is almost nothing when I think about what Fanchon has told me about tonight's event. A group interview with a hundred cameras recording everything I say and do, to be broadcasted to everyone in Panem. Just the thought makes me feel sick. I try to swallow the feeling, knowing how much grief I will get from Fanchon if I throw up in front of her again.

I shake myself out of my thoughts and back to the present. Fanchon and the stylist, I keep forgetting her name, have left my side and are chattering excitedly about something I can't see.

"Let's make sure it fits," Fanchon says, more cheer in her voice than I thought I would ever hear in my presence. I have seen her interviews from the television in my room, and she always seems much happier there than she does with me. If I had only seen her on screen and not in person I might have made the mistake that she is someone I'd like to meet.

The stylist woman grabs my arm and heaves me up from the chair, tossing a big piece of fabric over my shoulder. She pushes me towards a screen that is set up on one edge of the room. "Put it on, then come show out and show us."

I say nothing but nod, fairly certain that she wasn't looking for an answer anyways. I unfold the dress and take a look, surprised at how little fabric there is. It looks about the size that I might have worn when I was ten or eleven. I don't have high hopes for it being big enough, which is a shame because it is beautiful.

I toss the dress on and, not surprisingly, it hardly comes five inches below my hips. I pull it down as far as I can and peek out from behind the screen. "It feels a bit small."

"Not possible," the stylist says with a raise of her eyebrow. "I took her measurements myself."

"Just show us," Fanchon says impatiently.

I step out from the screen, still holding the bottom of the dress so that I make sure I'm somewhat covered.

Fanchon's eyes light up as soon as she sees me, her mouth even curling into a small smile. "It's even better than I thought, Hilna. I'm impressed."

Hilna, that was her name. She comes over and slaps my hands away from the hemline, causing the dress to scrunch up another inch and a half towards my hips. I can't stop my face from heating up as both of them continue to stare at me. I force my eye to the ground, wishing that they would let me go back and change.

"Why would you say it's too small?" Hilna shakes her head. "It fits beautifully, just like I envisioned."

"The audience is going to love you," Fanchon beams. "As long as your mouth doesn't mess this one up, you could very well be on your way to the top of the ratings."

I hardly even register the last half of her backhanded compliment, my mind stuck on one word. "A-audience?"

"Of course?" Fanchon says. "Tickets have been sold out since before you even arrived here. I'm glad I have a reserved ticket or I wouldn't have been able to get my hands on one. They only sold twenty-five hundred, such an exclusive event."

My legs wobble at just the number. There is no way that many people could fit anywhere. No possible way. My vision blurs for a second before refocusing on the confused look on Hilna's face. Darkness closes over my eyes and I feel a vague punch of pain on the left side of my head. Then, just like that, it's gone.

* * *

**Song: Something's Gotta Give by OneRepublic.**

* * *

**A/N: Alright look at that, another update. I think I'm doing pretty well at getting these out in good time. Only two more left until the arena, that is insane. These have gone by so quick like I actually might miss writing the Capitol chapters. They have been oddly interesting.**

**So I gave quite a few hints at what the next chapter will be, but I'll say a bit more. The interviews are being replaced with something a little bit different. I'm envisioning it as something like a giant press conference, where questions are asked randomly. It might be a bit chaotic but hey that's kind of the point. **

**I've created a poll where you can vote on who you want to survive the Bloodbath, which is coming up in three chapters I might add. Basically I am going to keep it open until I publish the final Capitol chapter, so go and vote on that! **

**I'm really appreciative of the reviews I got for last chapter, I think there was almost double what I've usually been getting for a chapter (8 as opposed to 4). It'd be very cool if this continued! As always, I'll leave a couple of questions here to get the comments flowing. **

_**Have your opinions of Eileen, Connor, or Caprice changed since their last POV?**_

_**What did you generally think of the chapter? Of the conference idea for next chapter?**_

* * *

**That is basically it, don't forget to review and vote on the poll! We're in the home stretch, so close to the Games with only two more Capitol chapters. Hopefully another update will come soon, but until then bye.**


	17. Fire

**Children of the Universe by Molly**

_We're shining like diamonds__  
__With fire in our bones__._

* * *

**Leina Rallis, 16, District Nine**

* * *

An assistant with a metal piece taped to her ear shuffles me over to a seat near one side of the stage. I cross my feet at my ankles, trying to remember everything that Petra told me about etiquette. I straighten my back, automatically feeling uncomfortable but urging myself to ignore it.

A million questions and answers run through my mind all at once as I watch the others being led to their respective seats. Verden, the boy who came here also from District Nine, is brought over to sit next to me less than a minute later. I smile shyly at him, but even though our eyes are locked he doesn't seem to notice me.

I drop my gaze to my hands, doing my best to appear to be calm even as the nerves run through me like wild cattle. I can't bring myself to look up at the heavy curtain that acts as a wall several feet in front of me. I can already hear the impatient shuffling and low voices of the thousands that Petra said would be gathering to watch the event. Just the thought of so many people's eyes staring up at me makes me feel sick all over again.

A man with wide eyes and a tie that looks like a bunch of colourful, mismatched puzzle pieces is escorted out to the stage and placed in the wide aisle between one half of the tributes and the other half. He rolls his eyes as a short woman in bright makeup dusts his face over with powder, pushing her away a few seconds later.

"Alright it's show time," he says, his face suddenly changing from a distasteful scowl to a brilliant smile. "We're live in three, two-"

I don't hear the last number and I'm not even sure if he says it. The curtain rises in one swift movement, revealing a bunch of light flashes that stand out against a dark background. I squint my eyes, but I am unable to see even one of the thousands of people that Petra said would be here. Perhaps she was mistaken?

Then all at once all doubts vanish as the roar of sound erupts in my ears. The noise is so loud that I can feel it in every part of my body. The shouts and yells explode in my chest, the stomping of feet overruns my heartbeat, and the rhythm of clapping lines up with my breaths. For a second I am unable to think of anything except the cloud of sound, even breathing escapes me.

I take in a big breath of air a few seconds later as the sound dies down to a low growl. I notice more than one of the tributes pry their hands away from their ears, eyes wide and bodies trembling. My heart goes out to the little boy on the end, the one from District Twelve I assume, who still has his eyes closed tight.

"Welcome to the first ever Hunger Games Conference night hosted by yours truly, Leon Deroche." The cheer in his voice is almost infectious, but does absolutely nothing to calm my growing nerves. The crowd responds almost as loudly as before, but this time I anticipate the volume and hopefully I don't outwardly react.

"We will be taking questions from the audience all night, as well as streaming questions from our online sources," Leon cheers, his face still stuck on the same overbearing grin. "We'll also be updating our tribute ratings as the night goes on, and remember the polls close tonight so be sure to get your votes in for your favourites! Live results can be seen on either of the screens to the sides as well as on any connected relay devices."

"To start off the night, we already have questions ready from a few of our wonderful attendees! Over to you guys!"

Suddenly all but two of the screens are taken over by the image of a younger looking Capitol woman with bright purple paint spread across her eyelids. She beams into the camera, her eyes wide and eager for her cue to speak. When she does her voice is high-pitched and child-like. "Verden, I've been wanting to ask since the moment I saw you, are you single?"

I jump slightly when I look over to my district partner and see a smiling Leon already standing in front of Verden with a microphone all but in his mouth. "Well-uh. Yeah."

Leon pulls the microphone up to his own lips, a knowing smirk replacing his brilliant grin. "You hear that ladies?"

Another round of loud cheering follows and I try to give a congratulatory look to Verden, but his eyes don't waver from the crowd. I am able to see the discomfort clearly from my angle, but I don't see any reason for it. I focus instead on one of the other two screens that displays a numbered list with all of the tribute names on it. Verden's name jumps up from ninth on the list to seventh in just the few seconds I am looking at it.

The girl disappears off the screen and a man with a black hat and a curly moustache takes her place. His smile is more downplayed, but it's easy to see his excitement just by taking one look at his eyes. "Jalissa, what would you say has been your favourite part of staying in the Capitol so far?"

The blonde girl's slight smile fades at the mention of her name, reappearing seconds later and looking even more forced than before. "I'm not sure. I mean it's all been so nice."

I feel like I would never have been able to come up with such a nice sounding reply off the top of my head. I tap my fingers against the edge on my seat, wondering if I will be able to just recreate one of Petra's responses or if I'll be caught off guard by something we never practiced. Knowing I could be pointed out at any time is unnerving to say the least.

Leon smiles, more than happy to take the microphone back. "Alright, who's next?"

* * *

**Vera Hemley, 18, District One**

* * *

"Vera, would you say you've enjoyed your time in the Capitol?"

My smile falters for a second when I hear my name, but I hope that the camera doesn't have time to catch it. I swallow hard before answering, sure that the truth might start to leak out before I can cover it. "It's been amazing. This place is like no where I have ever seen before."

I make sure not to go into detail. Merlin said that would make it easier on me, and he is right once again. I breathe a sigh of relief as my face disappears from the screen. It's only been about half an hour or so, but already I have been singled out for three questions. I'm thankful, as it has given me the opportunity to rise three ratings already.

I half pity the few tributes that have yet to have a question directed at them, and half envy them. I look a few spaces down from me and see the two girls sitting on the edge of my aisle. If they went by district order, which so far has proved true, they're from Five and Six. The blonde girl from Five looks bored, but I can see the nerves on the other girl's face. I wish I knew her name so I could see if the nerves were a result in rating drops, but unfortunately I haven't learned many names yet.

Verden and Radimir have done pretty well question wise. Verden's gotten at least as many as I have, and Radimir has gotten one that rose his rating from close to last up to fourteenth. On the whole I think we're doing well as an alliance in terms of ratings, with Verden sitting pretty at twelfth and myself at fifth.

I focus myself back into the conference, afraid that I might make a fool of myself if I'm called on and I'm stuck running around my mind instead of paying attention. I glance up at the screen and see an older woman with hair too tall for the camera to contain. As soon as she speaks I have to hold back a laugh. I've never in my life heard anything funnier than a Capitol accent.

"Sampson, darling, what do you think your greatest strength will be going into the Hunger Games tomorrow?"

The curly haired boy seated a ways away from me jumps at the sound of his name. On the big screen it's easy to see his nerves, even behind his ridiculous looking bowtie. "I-I, um, I learned some plants that, like, I can eat."

"Pleasant," Leon says, pulling the microphone back up to his lips. "I'm certain that will come in handy, somehow. Moving onto some more questions from our online servers."

"Ah here's a good one, from Miss Hula," Leon says, saying the name in a singsong voice. "Santana, after winning the Hunger Games, what is your greatest ambition you hope to achieve."

The screen captures a brief moment of what I can only describe as severe discomfort before the girl's face becomes the picture of calm. "Someday I would like to be a Peacekeeper back in my home district. After I become Victor."

The last part sounds like a second thought, but it's a good one. I watch the ratings board expecting to see some movement for Santana, and sure enough her name leaps four places up in the minutes that follow. Note to self, the Capitol likes confidence.

"And now a question from Miss Geneva," Leon moves on, no snide comments to make about Santana's answer. "Harlan, how do you think your young age will affect your chances at winning?"

The little boy seems unsurprised by the question, though in one way or another he has been asked the same thing in at least two different ways tonight. He is the youngest of all of us, which should be a disadvantage for him but seems to be helping him out in the likeability sector.

"I don't know if it will," his soft voice is picked up by the microphone and a chorus of awe's follow it around the stadium. I have to admit that it's difficult not to like him, and it's a shame that he's in this situation.

I shake the pity out of my head. Verden said that it'll do nothing for either him or us to feel bad for him. Things are going to play out the way they are meant to play out, and it's unfortunate that it's unlikely they'll be in his favour but that isn't our problem.

"I'm not that much younger, and no one knows what to expect tomorrow. I would say I have as good a chance as anyone else at least."

Another good answer, probably one that was rehearsed with him before today. It was going to obviously be something that would come up, so I wouldn't really be surprised. Never the less, the effect on the audience is evident. I watch his name shift up a slot, putting him in the eleventh spot.

"How sweet," Leon says, the patronizing tone in his voice even making me shift in my seat. "Final server question for a little while, from a young man by the name of Tio. Ariella, what do you think your greatest challenge will be in the arena tomorrow?"

The girl's face is enough to tell me that whatever she is about to say is going to be quite interesting. "Don't know. It'll be nice to finally go outside. Might be a challenge if I catch a cold or something, I don't know."

* * *

**August Overture, 17, District Ten**

* * *

"Only twenty minutes left of the first ever Hunger Games Conference! Where has the time gone, am I right everyone?" A collective groan can be easily heard throughout the stadium at the mention of the short time left. I didn't realize how famous we'd become in such a short period of time. Like there aren't many people I'd want to watch sit on a stage in fancy clothing for hour after hour. They must like us a real lot.

I glance up at the board with all our names on it. I wish I knew more of the others by name, it would make it easier to understand just what exactly I am looking at. I guess I'll have to settle for only knowing a couple. Maybe I'll try to learn them tonight, if the television stays on again. It's sort of awkward not knowing, especially considering the circumstance.

I feel the familiar rush of pride when I see my name so close to the top of the list. I started about around where I am now, at sixth out of twenty-four, and I'm happy that none of my answers made anyone change their mind. Well it could have, but equally for the good and bad then I guess?

"Let's try to sneak in as many questions as we can before we run out of time," Leon smiles, his bright green eyes glancing over me for a second as he looks back at us. I like Leon, he's a really happy-looking guy. I'd say that his family is probably mighty happy to have him, with that big grin of his. It's always nice to have people around that always have a smile on their face.

Bright colors draw my eyes back up to the screen where a woman beams back at the camera, her blue-silver hair reflecting off the flash. "I'll be quick! August, sweetheart, you are just the cutest thing I have ever seen. Do you have any brothers, maybe a sister? Good gracious there better be more of you."

I chuckle at the lady, her voice sounding like sugar to my ears. "I do, ma'am. Three brothers and three sisters. There's many more of me, don't you worry."

The last statement feels sort of sad but I'm not sure why. After all, talking about my family has always made me the happiest. I guess the sound of me saying that there's more of me makes it seem like I'm not going to be around much longer. Even if I know it could be true, it still sounds pretty sad to say aloud.

I must have missed Leon's response because the next voice I hear is one that I can't tell if it came from a man or a woman. Even once I look up at the screen I still can't be sure which it is. "Eileen, what do you think of the other tributes? Do you think they'll be much competition for you?"

I look over at Eileen, catching her eye with a sideways glance. She brings up her hand to hide her smile and I bite my lip. She told me she was going to play it tough for the Capitol, but she looks pretty funny trying not to smile at me. I won't be the one to criticize her behaviour, after all she's ahead of me by three slots on the board. I might think it's strange what she's doing, but obviously it's working.

"I haven't had much of a chance to see what they're capable of," she begins. "To answer your question though, yes I do think there'll be competition for me. I'm just not sure from who yet."

I'm pretty confused by her answer, but she's been playing that type of backwards, mysterious type of talking for all her questions. The clapping and cheering from the crowd confirm that she knows what she's doing. I'm glad one of us does, though I'm doing pretty well I guess for a guy that's just being himself. Well himself in a lot fancier clothes.

The next girl that comes up on the screen doesn't look any older than most of the tributes on stage. When she realizes she is up on the screen, she wipes away few stray strands of her red hair and speaks quickly. "Connor, if you win do you think you'll stay in the Capitol. For a while at least?"

One of the boys that is sitting far away from me answers the question, his face wavering between discomfort and a smile that's as dry as a stack of hay. "Of course, if the Capitol would have me."

A wave of high-pitched yelling comes over the audience, the women in the crowd obviously pretty happy with Connor's response. The smile on his face looks like a sigh of relief. I guess it's getting down the last little while. I assume he wouldn't want to leave them with a sour taste in their mouths, especially after he seems to have become so popular.

"Alright, we have time for just one more question." Leon puts his hands up defensively against the groans that erupt from the stadium. "I know, I know. It's been an amazing night, but tomorrow is a big day for our lovely tributes and we have to let them get _some_ sleep."

The face of the final question-asker appears on the screen, an older man with dark hair and a devilish grin. His words are slow and low, despite being thrown around the stadium by the speakers. "Caprice, what do you have to say to the people of the Capitol regarding your district's betrayal during the war."

As the screen switches to show Caprice, the trembling girl from District Four, her face pales. She opens her mouth to say something, but after a few moments she just shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. A murmur of confusion runs over the crowd, but thankfully for her the curtain begins to close right then and pretty soon we are all once again hidden from view. We can still all clearly hear Leon giving a swift goodbye to the crowd, even over Caprice who has broken out in sobs. Poor girl, I feel terrible that she's so nervous, but it was just a question?

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**Song: Children of the Universe by Molly**

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**A/N: Alright, finally had a chance to finish this chapter up. I think it went alright, though I wish I would have been able to incorporate more questions so we could have heard from more of the tributes. I apologize if your tribute didn't get a mention, but I just ran out of words. **

**I've updated the blog with viewer ratings, note that they were changing throughout this chapter so for example even if in Leina's POV someone was mentioned at a twelve, they might have gone up or down by the end. **

**The poll is also still up on my profile, so if you haven't voted yet make sure you do that!**

**I really appreciate all of the people who are continuously reviewing, and those that are working on getting caught up. I love reading all of your comments and it makes me feel a lot better about this. Keep them coming please!**

_**Did your opinions on Leina, Vera, or August change after this chapter?**_

_**What do you think of how the conference was set up? Any advice on things I could tweak?**_

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**Only one more chapter and then the arena chapters will begin, very exciting and very nerve wracking. Hopefully it won't be too long for the next one. Until next time! **


	18. Blindsides

**Aces High by Iron Maiden**

_Roll over, spin round and come in behind them  
Move to their blindsides and firing again._

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**Launch**

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**Jalissa Kessey, 18, District Three**

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At some point one would think that I'd run out of tears to cry, and yet they haven't stopped coming for hours. I haven't slept, my body is exhausted and my mind even more so, and the tears just won't dry up. It must be close to morning by now. Close to the time when Alaire will come and 'wake me up'.

I sit up on my bed and hug my knees to my chest. I don't care that Alaire thinks I'm being childish. How could I just go on and be normal after I've been told that my time alive is coming to a quick end. I'm eighteen, hardly had enough time to grow up. I am still a child, so what does it matter if she calls me childish.

I'm allowed to mourn myself and the life that's about to end.

I can feel my lips begin to tremble when I hear a knock on the door. I know who it is; I don't even bother answering the knock to allow her in. She will come in anyway, tell me to wipe the tears from my face, and whisk me away.

Sure enough, her head pokes in a second later. "Here, put this on. I'm late already. Open the door when you're changed."

She throws a bag onto the bed beside me, followed by a pair of boots that make a thud as they hit the wall. "Don't take long."

She closes the door again without waiting for a response. Shakily, I tear open the bag and set the outfit out on my bed. A pair of khaki shorts, a black shirt with a collar, and a brown, thick sweater with two splashes of mustard yellow- on the inside of the hood and in a stripe around the top of the right sleeve. I collect the boots and put them on the floor. They are sturdy, with thick laces and look like they must cost a fortune. They remind me of a slightly less nice version of the pair my father wore when he went out. These look more suited for the outdoors than his did.

I'm not sure if the tears stopped for a moment and then started again, or if they simply started falling more quickly at the thought of my father. Either way, teardrops splash down on the outfit as I pull of my old clothes and change into them. At least the clothes are dark, so I don't think anyone will notice.

There is no mirror in the room, but I can tell I look nothing like myself in these clothes. I would never pick out this outfit, it looks and feels like something boys would wear. I think of what my sister would say if she saw me right now, the laughter from thinking of what she would say dissolving back into tears within seconds.

I put my hands into the giant pockets, finding a couple of hair ties bunched into the corner. I pull them both out, putting one around my wrist and using the other to put my hair into a high ponytail. I usually prefer to have my hair down or in a braid, but the look seems to fit with the style.

After pulling on the thick, white socks and lacing up the boots, I feel at least two inches taller as I stand with my hand on the doorknob. I remember Alaire's warning not to take too long, but I can't bring myself to open the door knowing that this could be the last moment of privacy I could ever have. I relish in it a few more seconds before I force myself to slowly open the door.

There is already a guard there when I open it, which I didn't expect but I guess I should have. I look back at my little room, for a second considering slamming the door in the guard's face and throwing myself back onto the bed.

He doesn't give me that option. As soon as he sees me, he grabs hold of me by the shoulder and turns me around. I have handcuffs on before I can even think to struggle against him. It's been days since they last used these on me, but I'm not the least bit surprised they've gone back to them. It's obvious they don't trust the tributes even one bit.

"Walk in front," the guard says, his voice a lot less firm that I would have expected it to be. "Don't try anything. I have been instructed to use any force that I deem necessary."

I decide it's best not to ask what force he means, not that I'd likely be able to talk if I tried to. He puts one hand on the small of my back and gently pushes me down the hallway. There is no one else in front of us for the longest time, but after rounding a few corners I notice one of the doors opening in front of us.

I almost want to cry when I see who it is. Dressed in the same clothes as I am, the only difference being the color of her hood and stripe which are a dark grey, is Leina. She peeks out of the door, her eyes red and puffy just like I'm sure mine are. She stares at me, a silent pleading in her eyes that I wish I could answer to. I try to smile at her but only end up crying harder.

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**Venice Durante, 18, District Four**

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The chill of the morning hits me like an ocean wave as I step out the double doors. It's much darker in this part of the building, and it takes a few moments for me to realize that it's because there are no lights hanging overhead- only the dull glow of the moon. We're outside, for the first time in almost a week the wind I am feeling isn't from a ceiling fan.

I take a deep breath, but it feels as though I am breathing in something toxic. The wind is so much colder than I remember it, and the air feels so much thicker as it runs into my lungs. I cough, the convulsing that comes with it painful against the handcuffs.

"Not much further, son." The soft voice a direct contrast against the rough hand pressing me forward. I must admit that this Peacekeeper is much kinder than the ones I was handled by when I was leaving District Four. Don't get me wrong, I still want to be as far away from his grip as humanly possible, but he could definitely be worse.

My eyes finally adjust to the darkness and I am able to see where we are heading. I stop in my tracks when I see the giant, well, I'm not exactly sure what I would call it. It's giant and metallic and a lot like something I read about in a book called a robot, only _much _bigger. It takes another hard push on my back to get me moving again. The details of the thing in front of me both astonish and terrify me.

It takes all of the strength in me not to fight against the guard as he leads me up a ramp into the mouth of the thing. I hold my breath, imagining myself being swallowed whole by the monster and never seeing the light of the afternoon.

I squint as the lights hit my eyes, a huge difference from the gloomy sky outside. I'm not sure what I expected to find inside the monster, but I am surprised to see rows of chairs and a lot of blinking lights coming from all angles. The inside matches the appearance of the outside, very shiny and modern. It looks like some sort of metal ship on the inside, only a lot less homey.

There are already people inside, a lot of whom I recognize from the week but can't quite places names to. It's a strange feeling, the instant comfort I feel when I see Santana and Connor sitting in the back row. It calms me enough to see the familiar faces that I don't struggle when the guard pushes me into one of the empty chairs.

By the time all of the restraints are on, I am unable to turn my head enough to see Connor or Santana. Caprice, the girl from my district, is brought in a few minutes later with her face pale and teary. Everyone is silent, though I'm not sure if it's because there is someone enforcing it like there was on the train or if it's simply because we're all too nervous to speak.

The lights dim a bit, which is a relief to my eyes. Nothing else can be heard for a minute, and then a low whirring begins to come from underneath us. I'm not sure what to make of the noise, but going by the fact that none of the Capitol attendants seem to be freaking out I assume it's normal of this thing to do.

A few minutes later, three women are coming around to each of the tributes. I don't see what is happening, but my heart instantly begins to race when I hear a loud gasp from behind me. I don't have much time to worry about it because one of the women is in front of me a minute later.

She removes the restraint from my left arm and takes a case out of the front pocket of her dress. After looking carefully at it for a couple seconds, she picks a little square out of it and puts the case back away. Quickly, she pulls something else out of the same pocket. Before I have time to consider what the things are, she takes the little square and presses it onto the inside of my wrist. Then, she places the larger device over top of it and presses something on it.

Instantly it feels like my arm is on fire, I try to pull my hand away but she is holding firmly onto it. I close my eyes, not sure what that will do to stop the pain but doing it anyways. The pain lasts several seconds before she removes the device, leaving behind a less painful but still excruciating throbbing sensation.

It takes a minute before I find the courage to look down at my wrist. When I do, I feel as though I might faint. The little square that she had been holding is now _inside _my skin. Not on top of it, under a layer of skin thin enough that I can still see the little blue and green lights blinking on it. I turn my head away, just the look of it making me feel sick.

I'm not sure how long it takes before we reach our destination, but it feels like less than an hour. I am one of the first tributes to be taken as an army of Peacekeepers enters onto the ramp. It takes him only seconds to undo my restraints and slap a new pair of handcuffs on my wrists. The pain when it hits the place where the square was implanted is like nothing I have ever felt, and for a second my vision blurs as I stumble down the ramp.

I stop in front of a door, where my handcuffs are removed and I am pushed inside. The room is much bigger than the one I left this morning, easily two or three times the size. There isn't much in it, the most notable thing being a giant glass cylinder in the far corner.

I don't even make it to the table before my knees buckle underneath me and I am forced to the ground. For the first time since I left District Four, I burst into tears. At this point I'm not even sure what brings them- the pain in my wrist, the many sleepless nights, or the thought of death running across my mind.

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**Merryn Celtey, 15, District Seven**

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I don't even bother to try and stop the tears as they stream down my face. I've never been one to cry, but it makes me feel so much better right now. It won't do anything to change the situation, but it just feels so much better to let it out.

I've never thought about death before this week, but now it seems to be hidden in every thought my mind brings me to. It never seemed to be a possibility in my safe life in District Seven when I spent all my time in the gardens. Death was a faraway thing, something I was far to young to be touched by, and yet here it is so close that I can almost feel it.

Do you know you're going to die before it happens? Is there some sort of precursor that lets your body know that it's time to stop working so hard? That would explain the way my body feels so tired, as if the energy is being slowly drained from me in preparation.

I'm not even certain I'm scared. I was when Cateline first told me the truth about what the Hunger Games are. I'm fifteen, far too young for death to be creeping up on me so quickly. Yet I know there is nothing I can do to stop its approach.

I might be dead before the sun sets tonight. The thought that I may have unknowingly seen my last sunrise is the thing that hurts the most to think about. If I had a choice, I would have liked to spend my last week with my family and surrounded by all of the things I love in District Seven. If I would have known, I would have starred a little longer when I saw the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening. I would have memorized the faces of everyone I cared about so that I could draw them in my mind as I spend my last hours alive.

Instead all I have are tears and regrets of what I could have done if only I'd had more time.

"Tributes, please enter the tubes."

I remember what Cateline told me about the tube, the thing sitting in the corner of the room. All I have to do is step towards it and it will open, then close again once I am securely inside it. It's simple enough, but I can't make my legs stand.

Childishly, I pull my knees up to my chest and hug myself into a ball. I don't want to go. I can't force myself to go. I can't be brave. No matter what I have resolved to myself about death, I still don't want to let it just happen. My body still won't allow it. Going into that tube will launch me up into the place that I am likely to die. No amount of courage could make me go. No matter what, my body wants to survive. No matter what I have tried to convince myself about being alright with dying, I can't make my lungs stop fighting to breathe.

The voice comes once again, this time directed at me specifically. "Merryn Celtey, please enter your tube."

"No," I sob, not sure if the word is even recognizable. I don't care about doing what they want or making things easy on the people that are doing this to me. Why should I make this easy for them? Why should I just lie down and die when I want so badly to live? The answer is that I shouldn't.

The door flies open, but my tears block me from seeing who it is that has entered. I hear them say something, but my sobbing drowns out all sound. I feel someone pick me up from the chair by the waist. I'm not ready for them to put me back down, and my legs crumble beneath me. I barely feel the impact as the ground comes up to meet me, but the crying intensifies anyways.

"Merryn, sweetheart," I hear Cateline's voice and for some reason the kindness in her voice only makes the tears come faster. I feel her hands on my shoulders, and my vision clears for a second- long enough for me to see her and the two guards standing over her shoulder.

I cling to her, unable to control myself. "Don't let them, Cateline, please don't let them."

"Sweetheart, shh, it's okay," she says. "It's time to go."

She lets me go and I cover my face with both hands, refusing to look at any of them as the two guards haul me to my feet. I've stopped crying now and with my entire body exhausted from the effort I simply allow them to drag me towards the tube.

"I'm sorry," I hear Cateline's voice once more before I am dropped onto the floor of the tube and it closes around me. I stand, wiping the tears from my face and neck. The guards are already turned to leave, but Cateline just stares at me. For the first time I notice the tears in her eyes as she looks at me.

I turn away, not wanting to see them.

Then, the floor begins to rise up underneath me. I panic for a moment, certain that I am going to be crushed between the floor and the ceiling. Then the ceiling opens up. I can see nothing above me except a huge black hole, and I'm headed right into the heart of it.

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**Song: Aces High by Iron Maiden.**

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**A/N: Okay this chapter is not one of my best, I'll admit I don't feel as confident about it as I would like to. I just really wanted to get it out of my hands so that I can move onto the arena, since even after two rewrites it just was not happening. **

**Thank you to everyone that voted on the poll! I have opened up the results, so you can head over to my profile if you want to have a look at those. Congratulations to Kyra and Eileen who tied for first, and Dallas who was just one vote behind them. **

**I really appreciate all the reviews I have been getting, you guys are amazing. Keep it up? Thanks dears. I'll leave a few questions down below to get you started. **

_**Who do you suspect will be dying in the Bloodbath?**_

_**Who do you definitely think will survive?**_

_**As a whole, how did you enjoy the Capitol and the changes that were made?**_

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**That is basically it, the Games start next chapter so I guess I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who submitted and who has been reading. It's going to be very difficult to start killing off these tributes, honestly it will be. I hope there are no hard feelings when the tributes begin to fall next chapter. **

**That's it, see y'all next chapter!**

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**PS- If you haven't already seen the story, JabberJayHeart and I have started a new SYOT in a very cool new verse. It'd be great if all of you would check it out, maybe submit a tribute? Thanks! **


	19. Reason

**Bitter Peace by Slayer**

_Without a reason to fight  
A time to kill. _

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**Bloodbath**

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**Adriel Maynard, 17, District Five**

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My hands are pressed firmly against the glass in front of me, my first instinct upon realizing I am trapped being to break free. I'm not sure if it's several seconds, several minutes, or several hours that my eyes are cloaked with darkness, making me wonder whether they are closed or if it's just too dim to see.

I find it funny how one is able to wonder the most pointless things in the midst of panic.

I'm not sure if it makes me less terrified or more when finally some light allows me to see the tube surrounded by shining metal. I pry my hands away from the glass when the metal turns to grass, and finally to sky. Even though the tube still surrounds me it does nothing to block out the light, or the heat.

Suddenly I have a whole new vision, changing from dying of suffocation in the tube to dying of heat stroke. I pull at the collar of my new outfit as if somehow that will help my lungs take the air in.

The tube falls back down into the ground, leaving me standing on a one-foot platform. I look up, almost surprised to find that I am outside. One quick look around and I realize that the closest thing to this area that I have ever seen is the forest that sits behind our main factory. Even then, I've only seen that by looking out the window above my desk.

This seems so much more real than that.

Probably sixty or seventy feet away from my platform are trees that are at least double that length in height. The ground surrounding the area is greener than anything I have ever seen in my life. The air feels cleaner, and any fear of suffocation is long gone from my mind.

Seconds later the feeling returns as my eyes fall over a large projection of a timer. I search my mind for what Warren told me last night. He said there would be a timer, and not to move until it goes to zero. I nod to myself, silently agreeing to his warning. I never asked what would happen if I disobeyed it, and I'm not itching to find out.

This isn't my game and these aren't my rules. I don't think I have a choice but to do what I'm told.

I watch the timer, not trusting myself to take my eyes off of it for even a second. Warren's words play through my mind on a loop. Get out of there as soon as the timer hits zero. Don't stick around for anything. Worry about finding Jonah and Danican later, when it's safe to.

Movement catches my eye and against my own advice I follow it to see one of the girls sprinting off her platform. My goes dry, not sure what I am about to see but too stunned to look away. I recognize her, it's the girl that cried after the Conference. I don't remember her name.

She hits the ground a second later, her scream barely outlasting the cannon-like explosion that echoes over the area. My hand flies to my lips as her body crumbles, revealing a line of red that spans from her right wrist to her chest. I put my hand instinctually over my own wrist, instantly regretting it as my skin calls out in pain from whatever was implanted there this morning.

I fight the sudden urge to tear the thing out of my wrist.

The message is received clearly. Do not go against what you've been told. That girl is the example of what will happen to anyone that does.

_She's dead. _The thought hits me like a pile of bricks to the gut. Hearing what is going to happen from Warren is nothing like seeing it for myself. A minute ago, that girl was standing on a platform just like mine. Now she is gone, just like that.

I think I'm going to be sick.

I force my head to turn away from the girl, refocusing on the timer that is being projected over a large pit. I can't quite see what is in the hole, if anything, but surrounding it is a bunch of random things. I see a lot of weapons, some heavy-looking bags, and a lot of things that I can't name. Exactly like Warren said, it's all things that are supposed to help us survive in this place. A lot of the others are going to run in and try to get them.

Should I as well?

I shake my head quickly. No, Warren said not to be tempted. He said that today would be too risky with everyone in the same place. I have no idea who the threats are, no idea who has resolved to the idea of killing so that they can be the one to leave this place. In thirty seconds it is going to be a free for all, and anyone could be the next to go. I'm not going to take the chance of that person being me.

I reposition my feet so that I am ready to sprint in the opposite direction. With fifteen seconds to go, I am unable to pry my eyes away from the timer. It didn't seem real until this moment. Until that girl died, I don't think I actually thought they would go through with this. But it's happening.

And it's starting right now.

A gunshot rings out as the timer hits zero. I don't waste a second, putting all of my trust in Warren that it is alright for me to move now. I run as fast as my legs will carry me in the opposite direction of a lot of the others. Only a few that I can see seem to have the same plan that I do. It's just as well, the more people that fall today the less I have to compete against later.

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**Hollis Bale, 17, District One**

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I wait another few seconds after the timer has hit zero and the gunshot goes off before I run. After seeing what happened to the other girl when she ran early I don't want to risk it.

Most of the tributes have made the same choice as I have, to run into the thick of things to try and get some of the supplies laying around. To me it didn't seem like much of a choice. I don't think Jalissa or Leina know much about surviving in nature, and I definitely don't. If we're going to have a fair shot at this we are going to need some things to help us.

I see Jalissa across from me, heading towards the centre along with the majority. A second of confusion passes over me when I see her stop several feet away, but I ignore it. I've jump over the smaller objects and race against the others towards the more important looking things. I pick up a bag, grunting as I throw the weight over my shoulder. I pick up something small and metal and toss it into my pocket.

As more tributes reach the centre, I decide to back off. There has to be some useful things inside the backpack, at least judging by the weight of the thing. I need to find Leina and Jalissa and get out of here.

I turn around to see a blonde girl and a black haired boy fighting over a large bow. The girl is stronger, but the boy doesn't seem to want to give up, pulling with all his might against her. It happens in a matter of seconds, or it must because I don't even stop running. She reaches down to the ground, yanks an arrow out of a sling, and thrusts it straight into his chest.

I see the boy's mouth open but I don't hear a scream, or maybe it's lost in the chaos surrounding us. With one more yank the girl frees the bow, swoops down to grab the set of arrows and a small bag, and makes her break towards the forest.

The boy crumbles to the ground, his hands frantically pulling at the arrow in his chest. I don't wait around to see what happens, my stomach churning as I run towards the last place I saw Jalissa. She is still standing in the same place, eyes wide and body trembling.

"Jalissa!" I yell, but if she hears me she doesn't show it. I reach her seconds later, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her until her eyes lock with mine. "Let's go! Where's Leina?"

She shakily points one finger towards where I had just come from. It takes me less than a second to find Leina, her neck and the ground under her covered in red. My eyes widen as I realize she isn't moving.

"Come on," I choke, grabbing Jalissa by the arm and pulling her towards the tree line. After a few steps she seems to regain her awareness and begins running alongside me. She stops running as the trees begin to surround us, her breathing heavy. I pull her arm again, not willing to take a break now. Leina's gone, she's dead. I'm not taking the chance that either of us could be next.

We run until the bag swinging on my back becomes too heavy for me to bear. I stop, hearing Jalissa's footsteps cease as well. I crouch down, willing myself to catch my breath. The only thing I can think about right now is water.

Jalissa sits down in front of me but says nothing. When finally my normal breathing starts to come back, I begin looking around. We're sitting on a floor of leaves and grass, with trees taller than anything I have ever seen before standing all around us. It's silent except for the odd whistle of a bird. The air feels so clean that I wonder how I could have ever breathed in anything else.

"So this is the arena," I say, the words coming out as a whisper. It feels right to be quiet here when everything around us is so peaceful.

Jalissa looks up and I realize that I had been so fixated on our surroundings that I hadn't even noticed she'd been crying. She opens her mouth to say something but closes it just as fast, burying her face in her hands.

I put my arm around her shoulders. "Hey, it's okay."

"She's dead," she sobs into her hands.

I swallow thickly. I feel terrible about our third ally as well, but I didn't really know her. I guess Jalissa and her must have been closer than I thought, or maybe Jalissa is more sensitive than I thought. Maybe a combination of both. I feel a bit bad not crying for Leina. It's sad, that much is obvious, but I don't feel any tears coming.

"There's nothing we could have done," I try. "She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Jalissa leans into my side and I put my other arm around her in a hug. "She's too kind to just... to just be gone."

"I know," I say. I'm not sure what else to tell her. Nothing is going to make this any easier for her, that much I can tell. I wish Leina was here with us as well, but she isn't and I guess that's just how it has to be. During training I remember her telling me that her family never really chose a side during the war.

If they had sided with the Capitol she would have had the protection that I have. She would have still been alive and Jalissa wouldn't be so sad.

* * *

**Carina Ricter, 14, District Eight**

* * *

Nerves get the best of my adrenaline and as soon as I have my hands on one of the smaller bags from the outer are of the centre I find myself running back out.

It's definitely not that I'm scared, but seeing the bodies lying there was unnerving to say the least. Not that I have never seen a dead person before. Living through a war, especially as a Runner, toughens you right up. It also makes it a lot easier to pretend that they're just asleep. That's what I used to do.

I'm quick, so I'm one of the first people out. I don't see Flint, Kyra, or Harlan, but there's a lot going on so I try not to worry too much. I saw Kyra at the beginning, our platforms were only separated by one person. Harlan was beside her also, but I wasn't able to see Flint from where I was. I guess that means that he was on the other side.

As soon as I find a tree with low enough branches, I pull myself up and try to look for my allies. The first thing I do, though, is count the bodies. I'm too far to be able to see who any of them are, but I can see that there is four of them. I find some comfort on the fact that all of them look a bit too big to be any of my friends. It's hard to tell for sure, though.

I see someone not too far away from where I am. They're just sitting there and kind of look like they're waiting. I wish I could tell for sure if it's Kyra, but it does look a lot like her. I scamper back down the trunk and make my way towards where I think I saw her.

I do my best to be quiet, but it's difficult with the heavy boots and crunchy leaves. I approach the area and just start walking around, not able to pinpoint the exact spot. What if they moved? I hope not. I remember that was the plan earlier, for the other three to try and get somewhere safe and I would find them as soon as I could.

As I step around a particularly thick tree trunk, I hear a high-pitched shriek. I jump, not seeing Kyra until she is on her feet. Her eyes are wide and red as if she'd been crying. When she sees me she throws her arms around me and I return the hug easily. We stand there for a few seconds before I pull her away, knowing that her scream might have attracted some unwanted attention.

"Have you see Flint or Harlan?" I whisper as we make our way through the area as quickly and quietly as we can.

She shakes her head. I think for a second and then begin to lead her back towards the tree line. I point up the same tree I had been in a few minutes ago. "Let's climb up and see if we can find them."

She nods and opens her mouth to speak, but it's not her voice that I hear. "Carina?"

I look around quickly, and when I don't see anything I look back to Kyra for confirmation that she heard the voice as well. She gives me a strange look, but I know she must have heard it. I take a few steps forward but the voice doesn't come again.

I see one of the bushes move and a second later I see Flint. I run at him, stopping short of pulling him into a hug when I see him. Half of his face is coated in a thin layer of red that seems to be coming from a long mark in his forehead. "What happened to you?"

His brow furrows for a second, then he reaches up and flinches when he touches the mark. "It's not as bad as it probably looks, it was just a branch."

I hear Kyra giggle from behind me and Flint's face reddens. "I was in a bit of a hurry to get away from that."

I press my lips together tightly to keep myself from laughing, but I'm grateful for the little bit of comedic relief after so much seriousness. "It doesn't look bad at all. I'm sure the branch looks a lot worse."

Flint crosses his arms and stares down at the ground, his face getting redder by the second.

"Now we just need Harlan," Kyra whispers from behind me. "Then we can get as far away from here as possible."

"I like that plan," I nod in agreement.

I hear running from around us and panic sets in. I push Kyra back towards the tree, hoping that she gets my silent order to climb. Flint is already rushing back into the bush. I scamper halfway up a nearby tree and am comfortably hidden in a cocoon of leaves by the time I see a blonde-haired girl run past us. She doesn't even look up and she's gone seconds after we spot her.

I breathe a sigh of relief, taking a quick look around the area for Harlan before scrambling back down to the ground. I don't see him but I'm not losing hope. He's got to be alright. Out of all of my allies, I think he's probably the most capable of taking care of himself.

Flint is already back in the open when I reach the ground. I wonder for a second what's taking Kyra so long. She calls down, rather loudly I might add. "Guys, look who I found!"

Harlan climbs down the trunk first and I almost laugh. This was way easier than I thought it would be. Kyra jumps down after him with a big smile on her face. "This guy almost gave me a heart attack. I just see his hand grab my arm from inside the tree. I'll admit though, his hiding spot was way better than mine."

* * *

**Melita Crescent, 15, District Six**

* * *

I don't know how long I had been running when I finally stumble over a tree trunk and skid to a stop. I'm out of breath, my lungs having spent most of this time begging me to stop. I heave myself up to lean against a tree trunk, examining my body for any signs of injury.

The only things I notice are the array of scratches that spread from either palm up to the elbow, but I hardly feel the marks. Other than that I see to have fared alright from the fall, which is only a slight relief.

With nothing else left to distract myself with, my thoughts turn back to what I witnessed not far behind me. It was the beginning of the Hunger Games, just as Cavin described it to me last night. The timer went to zero, the gunshot rang out. I ran, not really looking for Sampson at this point. I saw Radimir at some point, but I don't know where or when.

I finally spotted Sampson when I was running back, he was in the thick of things with so many others surrounding him. He looked up and saw me, our eyes locking for a second. He didn't see that boy with the big knife come up behind him. I saw him, but I couldn't do anything or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

I didn't even want him as an ally, but I should have done something to help. The look in his eyes when he saw me... I don't think I'll ever be able to wipe that from my mind. It's as if just seeing me there was a comfort to him. And then he was killed.

I can't help but feel like a horrible person for giving him that one false second of safety.

I pull myself into a ball and the tears come immediately. It feels good just to sit here and cry, but I know that I have to do something else. Everything inside of me tells me to look for Radimir and apologize, except that one last stubborn part of me that wants to stay mad at him.

I need him. I can't deny that fact. We've always been sort of partners in crime, or I guess more like partners in survival. I haven't had to go it alone since the day I met him, and in all honesty I don't think I'm ready to go back to doing that. I always scraped by, but with Radimir we both did better. It's easier with two of us and I already know I can trust him whereas Sampson I was never too sure about.

I force myself up off of the ground. It's decided, I have to find Radimir. I'll apologize even, I don't care. I just need him with me. I can't do this alone, that much is obvious.

It's nearly night time before I finally resolve to find somewhere to sleep for the night and continue my search tomorrow morning. How big can this place be, really? I mean by the sounds of things we are supposed to be able to find each other without too much effort.

I jump as the air is filled with music. Not just any music, I realize after a second as I recognize the tune from several of District Six's community events. It's the Panem anthem. I've always hated the sound of it, it sounded far too majestic against the dreary District Six background. Out here in the wild, it seems even more out of place.

The seal of the Capitol, another easily recognized symbol that I shiver upon seeing, appears as a glowing emblem in the sky. How is this happening? I can do nothing but stare up at the sky, trying to understand what is going on.

A lump forms in my throat as two words appear under the seal- 'The Fallen'. I remember the strange saying from when Cavin was talking to me about the Hunger Games. It's a strange Capitol way of saying 'the dead', because for some reason they find it disrespectful to just say they are dead. I never understood, but I will say for sure that seeing 'The Fallen' written across the sky looks a lot better than 'The Dead' would.

The Capitol seal fades away and a picture of the girl I recognize as the one who ran too early appears in its place. She remains there for a few moments, her terror-filled eyes staring down at me like she somehow expected me to help her. I want to stop looking but I am unable to tear my eyes away.

Another girl appears in her place right after. I don't recognize her as anything more than a face I likely passed at some point this week. Unlike the first girl, this one actually has a smile on her face and her eyes look happy. It makes me wish to see the other girl's terrified eyes again. For some reason the smile makes me feel worse about the fact that she is up there.

I don't even realize what I am looking at until he almost disappears again. It... It's Radimir. But that's impossible. I saw him, he was alive. He was, well I don't know what he was doing I only saw him for a second but he wasn't dead. There is no way he could be dead. \

But I know even as his image disappears into Sampson's that it must be true. He's dead. The only two people here that ever game me the time of day for the last week are gone. Not only that, but my best friend is dead.

I hardly feel the roots scratch against my legs as I fall to the forest floor. I don't even have to allow the tears to come, they already have by the time I think about it. He's dead. The only person left, here and in all of Panem, that cares about me even a little bit is gone.

* * *

_**Caprice Neviere, District Four**_

_**Leina Rallis, District Nine**_

_**Radimir Ankratji, District Six**_

_**Sampson Ellios, District Eight**_

* * *

**Song: Bitter Peace by Slayer.**

* * *

**A/N: Well that's it? Tributes have begun to fall and so have my tears. In all honesty I loved every single one of the tributes in this story and it just had to come down for who I have plots prepared for. I crossed out all the tributes that have important story arcs and these four were who were left. I'm sorry to Snail, Teddy, addicted-to-my-reflection, and W.E.B.P., it's nothing personal I swear. **

**I hope everyone keeps reading, but obviously I won't take offense if you don't!**

**I'd really appreciate reviews for this chapter, as it was one of the tougher ones for me with it being the 1****st**** Hunger Games and all. I will leave some questions down below to hopefully help get you started. **

_**Any surprises for survivors or deaths? **_

_**What plots do you see unfolding?**_

_**What do you think of the chapter more generally (writing/plot wise)?**_

* * *

**That's pretty much it for this chapter. I am pretty excited to get going with all of the lovely plots that I have planned out. Hopefully this story is living up to expectations? I know the arena is a disappointment especially if any of you have ever read my stories before (I swear my arenas are usually way better). There will be some more of it to explore later, if that helps? **

**Okay I'm rambling bye.**

**PS: If you haven't already, go check out _The War Game _on JabberJayHeart's profile and submit a tribute to our wonderful collaboration. K thanks!**


	20. Tune

**Inoculated City by Clash**

_No one knows what they're fighting for  
We are tired of the tune._

* * *

**Arena Day One**

* * *

**Ariella Saville, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

I tap my fingers against my temples, willing away the terrible, terrible images from my mind.

It doesn't work. Nothing has. I shouldn't have stayed there, I could have been one of these awful scenes in someone else's mind. But I'm not. Not yet. I'm still here, but why won't the ones who aren't still here leave me alone. I'm not the one that killed them.

"Please go bother someone else," I whimper, not exactly sure who I am speaking to. I haven't been able to sleep more than an hour since I've been in this place, and that one hour was filled with more horror than every moment I've spent awake combined.

Nothing I have ever witnessed can hold a candle to what I saw yesterday. I don't think anyone can ever truly know terror until they've seen a life being taken away. Not only did I see that, but I saw that three times over. Three times I have seen the lively breaths give way to something impossibly still.

And now I can't stop seeing them. Replaying over and over in my mind, each time getting more and more terrible. Seeing their faces in the sky last night just made it worse. Made the detail in their expressions even more horrifying and the pain in their faces that much easier for my mind to create.

I open my eyes with a gasp, the image of the girl's body torn apart from arm to chest making it impossible to breathe.

What was it that my mother used to tell me to do? Counting details, yes I think that was what she called it. Whenever I was upset or angry, she would tell me to count at least a hundred details before she would talk about it with me. It always made me so mad when she would tell me that, but I realized later that she used the technique to get me to calm down first.

I try to focus, but the world around me feels so blurry that it almost hurts me to concentrate on one thing. I shake my head, picking something close to me. I pick a leaf off of the ground near my hand, forcing myself to examine it with every ounce of my attention. I trace every curve of the leaf with my eyes, inspect every indent and spot of filth on it.

By the time I have the image of the leaf memorized, I notice that my breathing has returned to normal. Just as quickly, however, the images begin to edge their way back into my consciousness. I swallow thickly, picking up a stone off the ground and get to work staring at its every spot.

Is this what I'm going to be doing for my last days? Memorizing pieces of nature as if they were the most interesting things I have ever seen. I toss it to the ground, immediately regretting the decision as soon as it leaves my hand.

I stand quickly. I won't spend another second wallowing in my self-pity, I refuse to. I have already wasted far too much of my time stuck in this horrible replaying of things that I have no business remembering. I absolutely refuse to spend another second in my mind when it's obviously doing me far more harm than good.

I just need a distraction.

For the first time I look, and I mean really look, around at where I am. It's magnificent. Truly I have never seen anything like it, or at least not from this close up. I've seen the border of the forests that surround District Twelve, but it's forbidden to go past the fences so I've never actually been this immersed in nature before. I'm sure that if my mind would stop flying it would be one of the most peaceful places I have ever been in.

I lean myself up against one of the trees, surprised by how sturdy it feels under my weight. That's another thing that I'm not used to is trees this tall. I remember learning that you could tell a trees age by its height, or maybe it was its width? Either way these things have got to be pretty damn old.

I keep walking, figuring that there is no point in staying in one place for so long. It's not like I have anything better to do than explore anyway. I guess I'll be killing two birds with one stone, stretching my legs and counting the details.

This isn't as bad as I thought. Well as long as I keep my head occupied, that is.

I have no way of knowing how long I have been walking, but judging by the way the air feels as though it's still heating up I assume that it is only late morning. Usually the weather evens out around noontime, then the temperature plummets by nightfall. I guess it doesn't really matter. I don't have anywhere in particular I need to be today.

As I venture further into the forest, the trees begin to thin out and I get this weird sensation of vulnerability as the amount of cover they offer lessens. I've almost convinced myself to turn around when something up ahead catches my eye. Against the blanket of greens and browns, the smear of grey stands out like a sore thumb.

There is no way I'm turning back now.

I pick up my pace, my eyes locked on the object that gets larger and larger as I approach. What I had originally thought was no bigger than the bag on my back is suddenly the size of a small house, then even bigger until I can swear it takes up the same amount of ground as the Justice Building.

When I finally reach it I can't help but look at it sideways. I'm not completely sure what I'm looking at to be honest. I want to call it a shack, but I don't think the word applies if the majority of the walls are on the ground. The best word that I can come up with to describe it is crumbs. The thing in front of me is the crumbs of whatever it's supposed to be.

* * *

**Verden Arell, 17, District Nine**

* * *

"So what's the plan?"

I smile as I flip over to see Vera looking at me. It almost takes the edge off of the morning, waking up to see her so eager. I was afraid that after seeing what it would actually take to win she would abandon the idea. Frankly, I was just as afraid of doing the same thing myself.

I made peace with yesterday, with what happened. It was chaotic and I could have easily become scared in the moment and gotten a knife in the stomach myself. But I didn't. Both Vera and I are alive and well to see another day.

Unfortunately, three is no longer the magic number. Losing Radimir was a shock to say the least. To me, he seemed even more capable than Vera to handle himself and do what we needed him to do. I never saw the fight, but Vera said it was the blonde girl- Eileen. I remember her name and Vera did too, she was one that we were going to ask into our alliance until we saw her teaming up with that smiley blonde guy.

We both wholeheartedly agreed that he was not going to fit in with us, so we left both him and Eileen to themselves. It appears that we were wrong not to ask her. She's proved that she's like us.

Eileen and myself were the only ones to kill yesterday. Everyone else was just in a panic trying to get supplies and beat it. I didn't think I would be able to take a life so easily, in such a spur of the moment type of way, but it was oddly instinctual. I'm glad not to have had time to hesitate, and now that I know I am capable I hope that it will be just as easy the next time.

"I was thinking a few more hours of sleep," I yawn, stretching myself out on the forest floor and closing my eyes again. I'm not that tired, actually, but I feel the need to lighten the air around us. Even though we know what we're here for, it's still nice to pretend we don't. I feel like if I dwell too much on it I'll over think it and the guilt will hit me sooner than I plan to allow it to.

"Funny," she says flatly, but I can feel the smile in her words. Vera is a nice girl, and that fact alone would make me think that she wouldn't understand my plan of self-preservation. But she is also very smart as I have learned. We talked for a few hours in training before calling over Radimir, and in that time I realized that she's exactly the partner I need.

Willing, but loyal. Willing to do what it takes to live, but loyal enough that I can be fairly certain she'd hesitate before trying something against me. A second of hesitation is all the warning I can ask for.

"Alright," I groan dramatically and heave myself into a sitting position. "I figured we'd just walk around, look for food and water and stuff. Keep our eyes open for any tributes that didn't hide themselves well enough."

"Great plan," she laughs and I feign a face of hurt. "Walk around, wow. I never would have thought of that. How do you do it?"

"Do you have a better plan then, Miss Strategist?"

"You know what," she says after a half-second of thought. "Walking around sounds like a perfect plan now that I think about it."

"Nice save," I say, rolling my eyes. Vera gets up and reaches into her backpack, pulling something small and metal out and shoving it in her pocket. It takes me a second to remember the gun, the one that we found yesterday in the bag she grabbed at the start of the Games. We both managed to get a good amount of supplies, but she got the long end of the stick with that gun. I'll just stand to hope that all three of those bullets are used up quickly.

I grab the machete from beside me and toss it between my hands. We used to have a bigger version of one of these at the mill to use when the grains would pile up in the gears. Not to say that I'm very familiar with the thing even for that use, but at least it's something I'm used to seeing.

"Ready?" I call over my shoulder, but when I turn around she is already standing there with all of her things. I quickly sling my bag over my shoulder and toss the machete into my right hand. I can see the gun making a weight in Vera's pocket, and she carries a small knife in one hand as well.

We're as ready as we're going to be.

"Wait, what's that?" I'm about to ask what she means when I hear it too, a slow beeping sound that I can't quite pinpoint. We both look around us, the panic settling within seconds. I don't think the unexpected is exactly something that is welcome in a place like this.

"There!" I say finally, pointing at a white cloth that is falling down towards us. Without saying anything else, we watch the thing until it settles on the ground a few feet from us. Unable to contain my curiosity, I go pick it up.

It's a metal thing, and the white piece we saw looks to be some kind of parachute. I play around with the metal piece for a few seconds before it makes another beeping sound and breaks in half. I flinch, almost dropping it but managing to save it at the last second.

"What is it?" Vera asks from a couple feet away, the look on her face enough to tell me her uncertainty.

I pull out two water bottles and two bags of what looks to be dried fruits, my confusion growing the more I look at the objects. "I think it's a gift?"

* * *

**Merryn Celtey, 15, District Seven**

* * *

"Dallas!" I yell when I see the blonde girl. I cover my mouth a second later, realizing how terrible of an idea it is to raise my voice in this place. I start running towards her.

When she sees me she is on her feet. I reach her just seconds before she has put all her things back in her backpack. "Dallas, I'm so glad I found you. I was looking all night, where did you go after?"

She eyes me up and down for a second before speaking. "I told you in training. We're not allies just because my idiotic mentor says we are. I didn't tell you where I went because I didn't want you to find me. So don't waste anymore time looking for me."

I'm speechless. I assumed that she was just under a lot of stress, that's what her mentor, Warren, and Cateline both told me during training when she snapped at me. After I couldn't find her yesterday, I panicked and thought maybe she'd been hurt and that was why she had not found me yet.

Tears begin to gather despite my pleas for them to remain stay hidden. "I'm sorry. I guess I misunderstood."

I nod and turn around, readjusting my bag on my back as I walk back in the direction I came from. Nearly every part of me wants to look back at her, and when I finally give into the urge I regret it almost instantly. She's gone, not one sign that she was ever there at all.

I whisper a good luck to her under my breath, hoping that somehow it will reach her.

As soon as I am sure that I'm far enough away, I let myself drop down beside a stream. Though it does nothing to stop the tears, simply putting my hands in the water instantly calms me. This place reminds me a lot of the forest behind my house that I would run through with Finley on the sunny days in District Seven.

Just thinking about Finley makes the quiet tears turn to sobs. I miss him so much, there's hardly been a day where I haven't seen him since I met him and now it's been at least a week. What I wouldn't give if this really was the forest from Seven and Finley were to come bounding through the trees to tell me to stop admiring the wildflowers.

How did I end up in here?

I cup a bit of water in my hands and bring it to my lips. I have no idea if it's clean, but I'm so thirsty that I don't even care. I spent all my time looking for Dallas and hoping that she would have a plan when I finally found her. I don't know how to survive in nature. I spent a good deal of time in the woods growing up, but I had always had the house waiting for me when I got back. Now I have nothing and I am completely alone. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to take care of myself.

I splash water on myself, but it does nothing to calm the panic running through my body. I only had one plan, and that was to get allies. I couldn't even do that one, because I made the choice to be with Dallas on Cateline's advice. I had other requests, from Jonah and one of the other girls, but Cateline said that Dallas' spunk would do us well in this place.

And now I'm just alone.

"Look, there's someone!" A girl's voice breaks through the silence that has settled around me. I look around for the source but find nothing. In a panic, I grab my bag off the ground and make a dash back into the forest.

Not even ten steps later I realize my mistake. I see the girl first, blonde hair and bright eyes that look familiar but that I also cannot put a name to. She points towards me and I take off without hesitation in the opposite direction, stopped not even three steps later when I see who she was talking to.

His name echoes in my head. _Verden,_ one of the tributes that Cateline mentioned a few times because of his high rating and excellent conference performance. She said that he was one of the favourites of the people that were organizing the Hunger Games.

It's not even his face that catches my attention, it's the giant knife in his hand. I've never seen one that large, and it's definitely not something that is used for cutting vegetables.

I back up a few steps, considering my best option for where to run to. I barely recognize the words that Verden yells to his partner, but she grabs me from behind before I even have the chance to make a break for it. I struggle against her, but it's obvious I am not getting out of her grip.

You'd think that I would panic more seeing the knife get closer to me, but it is really the opposite. The closer it gets, the more hopeless I feel and I think my body just starts to shut down. I stop squirming, my shoulders slump in her grip, and the only thing I can feel is the chilly breeze that makes my tears feel like ice.

Finally I just close my eyes, the odd thought that this place will be the last place I will ever see. I think back to the woods behind my house and put myself there just as pain blossoms in my chest. I can't help the feeling of loneliness that pops up, just before the world goes dark around me. Even though there are people around me, I am still going to die alone.

* * *

**Connor Leland, 18, District Two**

* * *

I feel like it makes me a terrible person not to trust my allies after yesterday. One of the tributes, the big guy from District Nine I think, came after me when I tried to get closer to the supplies pile. I didn't even see him until Venice was already pulling me away from him after having scared him off of me.

I could have been hurt or worse before I even realized what was happening.

I owe my life to Venice and I can't even bring myself to trust him fully. Santana is a whole ther story. I don't dislike myself for not being able to trust her, she's hardly said more than a few words to me since we agreed to be in an alliance. Even though it was Pascal that suggested the truce, and I trust Pascal quite a lot, that doesn't mean I trust Santana.

I'm uneasy about fully trusting anyone, even if it would make my head stop running a hundred miles per hour every second of the day. Something Pascal told me, comparing the Hunger Games to war time, really stuck in my mind. Even soldiers with the same goals in mind are going to do anything it takes to protect themselves first.

Even though the other tributes are good people, they're still going to do what it takes to save themselves first.

That means that even though I can say with absolute certainty that both Venice and Santana are good people, I still can't trust them because ten times out of ten they're going to choose themselves over me. I can't blame them for it because I'm doing the exact same thing. Which means that I can't trust them.

All I could think about when I was trying to fall asleep last night was why I am staying in an alliance if I know there will never be able to be trust in it. I'm still fighting with the idea of leaving, for almost no other reason than to finally put my reeling mind to rest. The only real benefit I can see to staying is survival, which of course is the entire basis of this tournament.

Frankly, my mind's just a mess right now and I have no idea what I should be doing.

"It's your turn for watch, Connor," Venice whispers, shaking my shoulder gently. I open my eyes, realizing that I have spent the past few hours lost in my head instead of sleeping. I yawn and pick myself up off the ground, moving to allow Venice to take my place. Beside us, Santana hardly stirs. I'm jealous of her ability to sleep so easily.

I pick up my knife from under my bag and check the pocket of my sweater for my gun. It's my most precious find from the supplies pile, mostly because it's something I am used to seeing. I was trained for the war, and while so far that hasn't meant much to me here it does mean that I know how to shoot a gun and quite accurately I might add. I haven't let it get out of my hands reach since I got it yesterday, just the heaviness it creates in my pocket is enough to make me feel that little bit more secure.

Looking over at Venice and Santana, both lying on their sides and deep in sleep, it's hard to think that I could believe they'd do anything to hurt me. I guess that's just normal, for people to look so harmless in their sleep even if they aren't. It was the same when I lived those few months in trainee barracks. Every kid in there was trained to shoot someone point blank in the back if they were given the order to do so and yet even they managed to look like babies when they were asleep.

I jump when I hear the anthem begin to play. Venice and Santana roll over, eyes squinted but open to the sky. Just as last night, the Capitol seal is the first thing we see in the sky. Then, a girl with freckles, red hair, and a sweet, sad smile. I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing away the guilt that I feel for not recognizing her. She's dead, probably by some horrible means earlier today, and I can't even whisper her name to say goodbye or thanks or sorry or whatever you're supposed to say when someone dies.

As soon as the anthem dies out and the girl disappears, the other two are already all but asleep again. I shove my hands into my sweater pocket, fingering the gun in my pocket. It's funny how something so deadly could give me this much comfort. I guess knowing that I would have the upper hand in any assault attempt is a nice thought, even if it ends in something so messy.

The only thing that bothers me about the weapon is the knowledge that it couldn't possibly be the only one. There were so many backpacks, packages, and various skewed supplies. It's a ridiculous thought that I managed to secure the only gun. I just hope that whoever it is that has the others has even less courage than I do.

The terrible irony in this situation is also impossible to ignore, especially now that I am left alone with only the night sounds and my thoughts as company. I was trained for a war that I never ended up fighting in, and now here I am.

I won't let the peaceful trees and the whimsical breeze fool me. This is as much of a battlefield as anything I would have ever faced as a soldier.

* * *

_**Merryn Celtey, District Seven**_

* * *

**Song: Inoculated City by Clash.**

* * *

**A/N: That didn't take nearly as long as I expected it to. I started this last night and it just happened and now I've been forced to update instead of waiting a couple more days. Don't expect updates to be this fast like exams are coming I don't even know why I'm writing I think I have a problem.**

**I'm super sorry to Heather for the death of our dear Merryn. She was a lovely girl and I very much enjoyed writing her, but unfortunately it just wasn't in the cards for her to survive much longer. **

**I don't have much else to say, so I'll just leave some questions down below for any of you who want to send me a review and make me really happy. **

_**What do you think of the developing plots? Any predictions?**_

_**Who do you think will be the next to fall?**_

* * *

**That's basically it. I'm going to say it again just because I can, but for anyone who has yet to check out **_**The War Game **_**on JabberJayHeart's profile I really recommend you do. It's a collaboration story that will be starting in the next few weeks between myself and the famous King of SYOT's. You don't want to miss it!**


	21. Soldier

**Eyes of the Insane by Slayer**

_A soldier's heart,  
Reflecting back at me.  
I keep seeing mutilated faces,  
Even in my dreams._

* * *

**Arena Day Two**

* * *

**Flint Calloway, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

I'm not sure what I expected the arena to be like, but this certainly isn't it.

I mean, it's so... normal. I'm no stranger to nature, well I've never actually been in the forests beyond District Twelve but I've lived beside the fence all my life and I am used to falling asleep to the sounds of owls and coyotes.

Carina and Harlan were quick to get us working to set up a sort of campsite as soon as we were far enough away from the starting area to calm our nerves. I am still surprised at how much they knew about what we'd need. Harlan was the one that chose our campsite, choosing a place that was slightly elevated and away from the tallest trees in case of rain or lightning. Carina was the one to show Kyra and I how to layer large leaves to make a roof that would keep us dry.

Kyra and I both agreed that we were lucky to have them as we were trying to follow Carina's very specific directions about securing the roof. I know very little about what to do to survive in nature, and by the sounds of it Kyra is the same way. I'll admit I feel a bit left out with Harlan and Carina discussing the pros and cons of building a fire, but at least I have Kyra to talk to in order to pass the time.

"Does this look right?" Kyra asks, eyeing one particular part of the roof that Carina asked us to redo this morning. She said it was because the wind damaged it, but I think that was just a nice way of her saying that we messed up making it the first time.

I shrug. "It doesn't look any different?"

"Is it supposed to?" She says, raising an eyebrow.

I hold back a chuckle. "I have no idea."

She rolls her eyes but I can see the beginnings of a smile on her lips. "You are so very helpful, Flint."

"I try," I say, giving her my biggest grin.

She laughs and flops down on the ground beside the shelter. "I have no idea if it's right but I's just going to say that it is."

"We could call Carina over here to tell us for sure," I say, crouching down next to her. The ground is a bit wet from the morning dew, but luckily it hasn't gotten muddy. I dread the day that it rains in here, I've always hated rain unless I can spend the day inside, which obviously isn't possible considering there is no 'inside' here.

She slaps me on the arm and I bite my tongue to keep from letting her know how much it hurt. "Don't you dare."

I roll my eyes sarcastically. "If you insist."

She laughs and I find myself laughing too. I've liked being in the arena more than I thought I would, but I'm unsure if that's because it's better than being locked alone in that little room or if it's because of Kyra. She does have a way of making even the most menial of tasks that much more enjoyable. If she lived back in District Twelve, I can be certain in saying that everyone living there would be a lot less miserable than they are.

I don't even notice she is on her feet again until a few seconds later I am looking up at her. I jump to stand in front of her, giving her a questioning stare but saying nothing. One thing I've learned about Kyra is that she isn't one to keep her mouth shut. I usually don't have to ask for an explanation before she'll give one.

"Let's go exploring," she says, grabbing my hand and looking at me eagerly.

The feeling of her hand touching mine makes words difficult. "A-Are you like, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It'll be fun, come on," she laughs. I don't think I can say anything else without sounding like a killjoy, so I let her pull me into the trees behind our shelter. Almost immediately it's like we're in a different world, any sign of people having ever been in this area gone completely.

I stare up at one of the trees, amazed by how tall it is. I feel a pull on my hand and see Kyra smiling at me with excitement in her eyes. "Come on, let's go!"

Still not sure if talking is going to happen with her hand touching mine, I just nod and follow her lead. For a while all we see are trees, bushes, and huge stones, but the sound of water fills my ears a few minutes into the journey.

I continue to follow her, so entranced by everything around us that I guess I don't stop when she does. It takes both her hands grabbing me by the shoulders to stop me from walking right off the edge and into the river that sits many feet below us.

"Wow." It's the only thing I can say as I stare down at the river. I've never seen so much water in my life, not in one place. Amazing is the only thing I word I can use to describe it. It's impossible to imagine its beauty unless you were staring straight down at it like Kyra and I.

"Wow," Kyra echoes, her hands not having moved from my shoulders. It feels like we're both stuck in time, just frozen and staring down at what could very well be the most beautiful place in Panem. There are no words to say, so we just stand in silence. Bayard warned me that the arena would be filled with fear and sadness, but he forgot to tell me about the beauty, or maybe he never knew.

* * *

**August Overture, 17, District Ten**

Even though I know that she would never use it for its intended use, the presence of the bow makes me uneasy. I can't help it. I'm used to seeing things like pitchforks and machetes, which I guess could be weapons as well but those never made me uncomfortable. I think the difference is that there is no other use for the bow. It is a weapon and that it all it is. I can't even pretend it's something else because, heck, why else would someone have a bow?

"What are we going to do today?" I ask. I don't like the silence, even though Eileen has already told me that it's best to stay quiet in case there are other tributes around that might hear. I just don't like it, my house is always so loud I don't think I will ever get used to silence.

She shushes me halfway through my thought and I lower my voice as I continue. "We have to be quiet, I saw something moving over there."

My eyes follow her hand but I don't see anything except trees, rocks, and more trees. I feel bad, Eileen is way better at all of this than I am. I haven't been able to help at all and it's definitely not that I don't want to help because I do. I hate feeling useless but that darn well how I feel.

I appreciate everything Eileen is able to do for me and I know I am very happy to have someone as lovely as her as my ally. She's kind, patient, and just plain nice to be around. I don't know if I could handle having someone who was as serious about this as some of the others seem to be. I know it's serious even if I don't act like it.

I just don't like to act like it. It's much easier to just go on my merry way than to spend time thinking about all this craziness. I never did think about death and I'm happy to keep it that way. I'm forever grateful that Eileen has respected that. Even if she does keep telling me to lower my voice.

"I don't see anything." Once again my voice is cut up by her insistence of my silence. I frown but decide to try and do what she says. I'm not exactly contributing much to this alliance so I guess the least I can do is do what she says. I'm not really used to taking direction from people since I'm the man of the house now. I don't mind following Eileen, though.

After a few minutes, or maybe seconds I'm not really sure, I hear a low buzzing sound that makes my heart race. I know the sound but I can't for the life of me think of what is making it. The racing in my heart is impossible to ignore, and I tap on Eileen's shoulder to get her attention quietly. She turns around and gives me a questioning stare.

"Do you hear that?" I say as quietly as I can.

She leans in close to my face. "What?"

I swallow thickly and raise my voice a little bit, but the buzzing is too loud for her to even know that I tried to repeat myself.

"What the hell is that?" All thoughts of being quiet seem to have left her mind as she calls out at me over the noise that seems to be getting closer and closer. Both of us are already on our feet but unsure where the sound is coming from and unsure where to go to get away from it.

Suddenly a word pops into my mind and I don't even try to stop myself before yelling it out. "Wasps!"

I'm not sure if Eileen knows what that means, but I don't have much time to ask. It's like all of a sudden the air turns black, except it's not air it's insects. I hear Eileen scream but I don't even see her through the cloud of bugs. The only thing I can remember was my mother telling me to stand still and they'd leave me alone.

I tense all of my muscles, but within seconds I can feel tears coming to my eyes as their stingers pierce into my body. I can't stand it any longer. I can't see anything around me except black, vibrating bugs but I take off running anyway. In what direction I really couldn't tell you.

I hear another scream and I turn myself to head in that direction. It doesn't take longer before I feel rocks under my feet and then water soon after. I don't even stop to consider how deep the water might be or how far I could be falling before I flop myself down into the water.

The buzzing stops immediately as my ears fall beneath the surface of the water. I close my eyes as my entire body becomes immersed in the river. The water isn't nearly as deep as I had hoped, but it's deep enough to cover me and that'll all I need. I feel no more stings and the ones that I did receive feel so much better in the cold river.

When I can't hold my breath any longer, I pull my head up and gasp in as much air as my lungs can hold. I wipe the water from my eyelids and look around, thankful when I finally spot Eileen also laying flat in the river. When she too comes up for air I can't help but laugh. Her face is completely covered by blonde hair and her face is as red as a tulip.

"Eileen!" I yell over. She looks up at me, startled, for a second before putting her finger to her lips. In that moment I am pretty sure she wasn't hurt bad, which is a huge relief. I get up and shake the excess water from my clothes before stepping over to where she is a few metres away. It's a lot more difficult to walk in soaking wet clothes, but I guess we'll have to get used to it for a little while. I find it hard to believe that there'd be any clotheslines in the forest after all.

* * *

**Dallas Audrinne, 17, District Five**

* * *

I don't think I could feel any worse even if it would have been me there to see her last breath.

Ever since I saw her image in the sky last night I can't help think of the what ifs. What if I wouldn't have turned her away so soon? What if I would have went with her? What if, what if, what if? I can't help but thinking it's my fault. I know I shouldn't get eaten up about it, because there is nothing I can do about it now, but I know it was my fault and that is a difficult pill to swallow.

I wish I never would have run into her. She was never in my plans and I feel horrible that that meant that she ended up as another face in the sky. I didn't dislike Merryn one bit, but she was just another thing that Warren pushed on me and I wanted nothing to do with her.

I feel like a horrible person. Maybe I am one. Someone is dead because of me. That's not a feeling I think I will be able to shake very easily.

If I sit here for another second I don't think I'll ever be able to get out of this sinking hole of self-pity. I force myself up on my feet, all my muscles crying out in protest at the sudden movement after being still for so long. I rub the side of my neck to get the kinks out, but it doesn't help to make me feel any more ready for this.

I will not allow myself one more minute of this mindset. Not one more minute. Merryn is gone and no amount of bad feelings is going to change that. I'm not going to give up because I made one mistake that I could have never predicted would end in the way it did. I can feel bad all I want when I'm back home in District Five.

Every step feels a bit better as I continue walking. I don't exactly know where I'm going but I guess it doesn't really matter. With my knife locked in one hand and the other hanging onto the loose strap of my backpack, I walk past an impossible number of bushes and trees. I didn't think it was possible to have so many in one place, and for them to be so tall either.

District Five doesn't have a lot of wildlife. What few trees we have still standing are no bigger than a small branch on one of these monsters. I'm surprised at how peaceful they look looming over me, it almost makes me forget about the fear that one of them could fall down and crush me at any second.

The trees suddenly begin thinning out and I consider turning back, but figure there is no real harm in going a bit further. Merryn finding me in this place must have been some sort of fluke, it's gigantic. I think the odds of me running into anyone are low enough to risk it.

I go further, suddenly faced with a slight incline which I easily make it over. Before I even have the chance to catch my breath I notice the thing. Calling it a building would be a huge overstatement, but I don't really have a word for what it is now. I think at some point it must have been a building, but it looks like some real strong winds or maybe a hurricane made quick work of its stability.

It's not even a question that I'm going to get a closer look. I look around quickly to make sure there is no one else around, and of course there isn't. Then I quickly close the distance between me and the building and sneak in through one of the half-torn walls.

It's massive, whatever it used to be it must have been something important. The color of the bricks reminds me of something but I can't put my finger on it and dismiss it as something I probably saw in one of the factories in Five.

There isn't much furniture in it, well not much that is still standing anyways. I see what was probably once a desk, except it's been cut right in half by a fallen light fixture. There are a few scattered chairs, even one that looks like it might still be able to work.

Now that I'm inside, I am less eager to trust the ceiling to hold up for me and decide that it's probably best if I keep my tour of the place short. There is a wall on the far side, and upon further inspection I see that it separates another, much smaller, room that looks almost perfectly intact.

It's weird to see. Whereas the other areas of the building have scattered papers, books, and debris this room seems like it's been frozen in a time before the rest of the place was destroyed. There is still a mug sitting on top of the desk as if waiting for its owner to come back and have a cup of coffee.

I decide this is where I stop. This room doesn't give me a good feeling, and I'd rather not ignore my gut. It's been able to keep me safe so far and I trust my instincts more than my curiosity. I slip back through the wall as quickly as I had entered and retreat back into the forest, but the creepy feeling the room gave me follows me all the way.

* * *

**Danican Tobin, 16, District Three**

* * *

"Come on Jonah," Adriel sighs. "If there was another way I could see I wouldn't ask you to do this, but we both know what we're here for."

"I've already told you, no," Jonah says softly.

This conversation seems to be the only one we are able to have since we met up yesterday night. After the initial sighting, Jonah and I reconnected easily since I pointed towards a spot where we could meet as the countdown was still going down. Adriel wouldn't even look at me during that time so I couldn't let him in on the plan.

Luckily we were able to find him not too far from where we had begun, huddled and breathless in a bush that wasn't much camouflage at all. I was just happy to see him, but he wouldn't look at either of us for a long time and his face remained a dark shade of red at least until the sun went down. Both Jonah and I had a backpack with supplies and Jonah even went into the thick of the fighting to swipe some of the technical supplies we had tinkered with in training. Adriel didn't have anything, but he wouldn't give us a reason why.

Adriel goes right up to Jonah's face, leaning over where he sits on the ground. "What else do you want us to do. People are already dead and we could be next, but you won't even make an attempt to save us. Your allies, and yourself. That's simple stupidity if you ask me."

"It's not right," Jonah says, closing his eyes. "I won't do it."

He gets up and pushes Adriel by the shoulders to get him away from him. As he's walking away, Adriel calls out after him. "Don't be an idiot, Jonah! I know what I'm talking about and you know it too!"

Jonah doesn't say anything and disappears behind the trees a few seconds later. I consider if we should go after him because it really doesn't seem like a good idea for him to be walking around the arena all alone. Then again, he also doesn't look like he wants the company. I guess I'll just have to wait and hope he comes back soon.

"Can you believe him?" Adriel says, waving his hand over to the spot where Jonah disappeared. "All of us know that my plan will work, why won't he listen?"

I'm scared to say anything but the longer he looks at me the more I know he is expecting an answer. "His heart's too good to hurt anyone I think."

Adriel sighs loudly. "He's going to get us all killed."

"I don't know about that," I begin but he cuts me off midsentence.

"He's being selfish. We need him, we need the supplies he has but he's guarding them even from his own allies. If he's not going to do what it takes to put us all ahead then someone else is going to do it. The choice is damn clear if he would just open his eyes."

I nod, not really sure what to say. I mean, I can understand both of their arguments really. Adriel's plan is well thought out and seems like it could really work. Not to mention that other tributes have already died, like this whole thing isn't a joke and the three of us really could be next.

Then again, Jonah is right that the plan is cruel. Every piece of my heart screams out that it's just plain wrong. If everything works out in Adriel's plan, a lot of people are going to get hurt. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm glad it's not my decision to make, I'm not the one with the supplies we need.

"You need to talk to him," Adriel says. My head snaps up to face him, the surprise probably evident in my expression. "You two were together before I came along, you've got a stronger pull on him. If he sees that you're on board maybe it will sway him."

"What am I supposed to say?" I ask. "I'm not sure I can do much to convince him, he seems pretty set on his morals."

"Try," he says flatly. He leans down in front of me a second later, his face a lot softer. "I'm sorry, I don't know what else to do. I want us all to be safe, that's all I want."

I nod and stand up to find Jonah. I'm not really sure what I'm going to say, but I think Adriel is right. Alaire did say that this was not the place to be emotional, and the only argument for Jonah's side is morality which I think ties into being emotional. Even if I don't like it, maybe it's just something we're going to have to do to ensure our safety.

"Jonah?" I whisper, fairly sure that he won't be close enough to hear me but certain that it's also not a good idea to yell his name.

"Dan?" I am surprised when I hear his reply, but I see him sitting only a few feet away from me. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he looks more frail than I could have thought possible. I step carefully over to where he is and sit down next to him.

"I know Adriel sent you and I don't want to hear it," he says quietly.

"Jonah I think this is right," I say, ignoring his comment. "I mean it doesn't feel right but I think it is right."

"If it doesn't feel right it isn't right," he replies. "I won't do it, Dan. I've seen what these bombs can do to people. I shouldn't have even showed you I knew how to work them."

"This isn't like the war," I whisper. Even though I was never exposed to the thick of the fighting and bombing, I am still all too familiar with the sounds of explosions.

"Isn't it?" He shrugs. "It's us against them and both sides want blood. Seems a lot like a war to me."

* * *

_**No Deaths.**_

* * *

**Song: Eyes of the Insane by Slayer**

* * *

**A/N: This update is way later than I thought it would be, and I apologize for that but I just got a bit busy. I am now in my exam period so I have no idea when updates will be coming really. Hopefully I can still keep good time in getting through these but who really knows at this point. **

**No deaths, these chapters are always the most painful to write but I thought it was necessary to provide a check in before some of my plots begin to unfold. Hope y'all don't mind. **

**Reviews are always appreciated and I'll leave some questions down below to help get you started. **

_**Who do you predict will die next chapter?**_

_**What do you think will come of the ruins (of course something will, if you hadn't already guessed)?**_

* * *

**That is pretty much it. This chapter was kind of boring but I can promise you that won't continue. In fact, we have a triple death chapter coming up next which is always fun ;). **

**PS: Anyone that hasn't already, **_**The War Game **_**closes on Wednesday April 9****th****! It's a collaboration story between JabberJayHeart and I, and it would be much appreciated if you would check it out!**


	22. Waiting

**A Pair of Brown Eyes by The Pogues**

_I saw the streams, the rolling hills, __  
__Where his brown eyes were waiting.__  
__And I thought about a pair of brown eyes,__  
__That waited once for me._

* * *

**Arena Day Three**

* * *

**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

* * *

Sleep seems impossible in here. After the first sleepless night, I thought just pure exhaustion would ensure that I got a good few hours the next night. That doesn't seem to be the case because here I am awake to watch the sun rise once again.

I might have well been on watch all night because every night sound seems to be enough to wake me. Connor took the first watch and just his footsteps as he walked over to wake me for my turn had me jumping to my feet. I guess it's better to be woken up to a false alarm than to not wake up for a real attack.

Unable to stand the inactivity any longer, I sit up and see Venice's eyes following me. I nod at him and look around for my backpack. After a brief second of panic I see it leaning against one of the nearby tree trunks.

"Sorry, I moved it," Venice whispers. "I was trying to clean up the camp a little."

"It's fine," I reply. I can understand the boredom of being on watch. I've taken to peeling sticks and branches with one the sharp edge of my machete to pass the time. The first night the only thing that would quiet my anxiety was to pace around, but light of my own sleeping issues I decided it was best to choose a more quiet activity.

"Where's Connor?" I ask, raising my voice a bit when I realize that he isn't sleeping around us.

"He got up to go find water a few hours ago," Venice shrugs. "I guess he couldn't sleep."

I nod, deciding not to tell him about my own sleep problems. It's really not anything he should be worrying about anyway. "When he comes back I think we should try and have a look around."

"What for?" He asks and I give him a look. We talked about it last night a bit, but it's killing me to just sit here. There are others out there that are willing to do what is needed to get home and I feel like we're just waiting for them to run into us. I hate playing this waiting game, it makes me feel vulnerable to their agenda instead of the other way around.

"Okay, okay," he says, putting his hands up in mock defence. "We'll see what Connor thinks when he gets back, shouldn't be too much longer."

"We already know what Connor thinks," I remind him. After a bit of discussion last night it was clear that Connor was not keen on the idea of beating the others to the kill. He said it was amoral to kill people that we weren't even certain were threatening us. I agree with his stance, but I also just hate sitting around like this.

"What do you think, Santana?" He asks.

"I think it's necessary," I sigh. I hate saying it, the idea disgusts me, but it's true. I'm sure Pascal told Connor the exact same things he told me, but it seems to have hit home harder for me than for him. "What do you think?"

He pauses for a second. "I'm not sure what I think. I mean I don't like it but-"

"You can't think that I like the idea?" I interrupt, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

"No, that's not what I meant," he assures me. "I just... I don't know."

"Okay," I say, turning back to digging through my bag. I don't even remember what I was looking for but at this point I just don't want to continue this conversation.

"Santana that's not what I meant," he says again.

I look up for a second and give him the warmest smile I can. "I know, don't worry about it."

I hear footsteps and my hand goes immediately to the handle of my machete. I sigh when I see that it's just Connor, who is carrying three large water bottles in his arms. Venice gets up to help him and I follow a second later. The bottles are a lot larger than I remember when I pulled them from our bags last night. They must expand or something.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I ask as cheerfully as I can. By the look that Connor gives Venice I know that he also remembers our late night talk. I try to keep the defeat from making my shoulders sag, but I promise myself that I won't push the idea anymore. I don't want to look like a worse person than I am.

"I don't think we should stay in the same camp for too much longer," Venice suggests. "We could walk around for a bit, maybe find some food for when our supply runs low."

It's not exactly what I had suggested, but it leaves room for interpretation. A real smile crosses my lips as Connor quickly agrees to the idea. As long as we're moving I'll be a lot happier and Venice must know that.

* * *

**Jalissa Kessey, 18, District Three**

* * *

"District One is pretty industrial. You'd never find trees this big or grass this green there. It's mostly buildings and concrete, really."

I nod along with his memories and try to picture it myself. By what Hollis has told me, District One and District Three aren't all that different. There wasn't much in the way of nature back in my home district, in fact I'd only seen a tree that was taller than me a handful of times before coming here.

"I can't think of anything else," he trails off and gives me a shrug. He's been trying to help me stay out of my thoughts by telling me stories about his life. I love hearing about another district, it's not something we learn about in school which I'd never thought was strange until now. Before meeting Hollis the only thing I'd known about District One was that it made luxury items, and I really didn't know what that meant either.

I close my eyes and try to think of something else to ask him. "What does your house look like?"

"It's small and cramped. The outside is grey and there's a little garden in the front yard that my mother used to take care of before she started refusing to leave the house." When he mentions his mother I can see the redness begin in his cheeks. "The grass is really tall, it hasn't been cut since my father-"

He trails off again and I frown. I'm not trying to make him uncomfortable, but it seems that any mention of his parents makes him squirm. Before I can stop myself, though, the question is already out of my mouth. "Since your father what?"

He hesitates for a moment and I almost tell him that he doesn't have to answer. Before I get the chance, however, he speaks up. "He died in the war. Shot by a rebel in the last few months of the war."

My hand instinctively goes to his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. I had no idea or I wouldn't have pressed him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he says, giving me a forced smile. "I've gotten over it, really. That's why I'm here, actually, I think it would make him proud to know that I'm still as dedicated as he was to what he fought for."

I nod even though I don't quite understand. He doesn't seem upset, so I decide it's not bad of me to ask more questions. "So you volunteered for this to make your father proud?"

He nods but that doesn't really answer what I want to know. "Why would he be proud, this is so dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous for me," he shrugs. "My family fought with them, we've been loyal to the Capitol since before I was born. They'll protect me."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I may have only just found out what the Hunger Games are, but I can say with fair certainty that I don't think it works like he says. "Who told you that?"

"My mother, who else?"

"How does she know though?" I press, trying to get him to understand without telling him myself. "Did someone tell her that you would be protected if you volunteered?"

"Well, I don't know," he says, and I can see the gears turning in his mind. "She just said I would be. She wouldn't lie to me, I know she wouldn't."

"I'm not saying she lied," I say carefully, noting the change in his voice. "I'm saying she might not have known."

He just looks at me, seemingly unable to say anything else. I squeeze his shoulder again, not really sure what else to do except wait for his reply. I could never understand why he volunteered, or that other girl from District Six either, and I kind of respected his courage in doing it. Now that I know the truth, the only thing I feel is pity. He didn't even know what he was getting himself into, and his mother had him do it anyways.

"I need to go for a walk," he says finally, standing up. I grab his arm to keep him from walking away from me.

"No, Hollis, just talk it out with me," I plead.

He looks at me for a second before allowing me to pull him back down to the ground. "I just need to think."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I just don't want you to not know."

"No, I'm not mad at you," he says. He opens his mouth again to say something else but closes it again a second later. I feel just awful for prying. It's none of my business anyway, and now I've made him upset. Was it really worth him knowing and being miserable for the rest his life, however long that is?

"Do you want to hear about District Three?" I ask, the first thing I can think of to take him away from whatever thoughts are attacking his mind right now. Hollis did the same thing for me since Leina died, and now it's my turn to make him feel better if I can.

He nods and for the second that we make eye contact I can see tears forming in his eyes. He quickly breaks the gaze to look down at the ground.

"Okay, let's see," I begin. I'm not really sure what I was going to tell him, but now I have to come up with something. "It's a lot like how you described District One actually, a lot of buildings and cement. I live in the middle of town, so I only visited the district border a handful of times as a kid. It was the only natural part of District Three that I've ever seen."

"What's past the border?" I am surprised to hear him speak again, even in such a mild tone. I consider my answer carefully for a second, but try and I might I am unable to come up with an answer that I think will be good enough for him.

"I'm actually not sure, I don't remember ever asking anyone," I shrug, hoping not to see the disappointment on his face.

"Why not?"

It's a question I'm not exactly ready for. "I'm not sure, I guess it never mattered what was outside of District Three. I wish I would have asked, though."

* * *

**Ariella Saville, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

I hate being out there. I hate feeling vulnerable to someone stumbling upon me by accident. I hate the thought that every breeze whipping through the branches could be an attacker.

Maybe that's what brought me back to the strange building?

It's not anything close to a house, but it's shelter. It _feels _safe, even if it's a false comfort. Something drew me back in here, even hours after leaving it out of fear of the thing collapsing further. I spent almost all of today looking for it.

Now sitting here huddled under a desk that whatever caused the building to crumble left untouched, I feel safer than I have since I was launched into this place. Maybe it's just enough to have four walls around me. I don't know, I don't care. I just know I won't be leaving again until something happens to change my mind about this place.

I think maybe Bayard was right, at least about the alliance part. I'm used to being alone, but this is a whole new type of loneliness that I have never experienced before. I guess before I really wasn't lonely at all. If I would have taken two steps out of my bedroom door I would have been surrounded by family that I knew cared about me. I chose to be alone, but I couldn't feel the hollow loneliness I feel now.

This is different. If I step out of my little sanctuary the only people I'd encounter are looking for my blood. I'm sure that not one of them knows my name, and not one of them would care to. Maybe I chose to be alone, but this is way more permanent than before. I can't just decide to leave my room and apologize for talking back again.

I'm stuck here alone, and that's that. This is what true loneliness feels like, and it hurts more than I ever thought possible.

Who would have known that something I wished upon myself for so long could start to feel like I was being buried alive in the coal mines. I don't know how to stop the hurting, it just runs too deep. It's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the only people who care about me are so far out of reach. Living with the fact that I spent all the time I had left with them pushing them as far out of my life as I could.

I don't care what they did anymore. I won't say that they were right for what they did during the war, but I just don't care. I want my mom, my dad, my family. I want to be out of this place and back home with my parents yelling at me to open the office door.

I'm not sure when I started crying, but I suddenly become painfully aware of the tears running down my cheeks. I don't care that I'm being pathetic or pitiful or whatever anyone would say if they saw me huddled under a desk in tears. I don't know what else I'm supposed to. I really don't.

I hear a crash from the other room and I am on my feet behind the desk within seconds. I look around me for an escape, something I never thought I would have to think about within my safe haven.

There are none. Nothing except the closed door that faces me. Not a window to climb out of nor a crack in the wall.

I am shaking as I take careful footsteps towards the door. Perhaps it would be better for me to stay in hiding, and maybe I would if I had my head screwed on right. My hand is already on the doorknob and by the time the thought hits me the knob has already let out a creak as I began to turn it.

Unable to take the torture of waiting to see what I will encounter, I throw open the door and poke my head out. I scan what's left of the building outside of the office, which really isn't much at all. I see the cracks in the walls and ceiling, the uprooted floor boards and the leaves that have made their way inside. I almost dismiss the sound as nothing more than a strong wind breaking through the cracks.

Then I see her. A girl with her small body pressed against one of the far walls, dark eyes wide and lips parted. I don't recognize her, at least not by name. Her face and long, thick hair make me think I must have seen her before but not more than a passing glance at most.

She's trembling as much as I am, but she doesn't appear armed which comforts me slightly. I swallow thickly before finding my voice. "Who are you?"

For a moment she only stares at me, and then she opens her mouth as if to answer. Half a second later she makes a bolt for the exit, a large crack in the wall that is closer to myself than to where she is standing.

Before I can understand my reason for doing so, I make a run for the exit as well. I reach it just a moment after her, grabbing hold of her arm as she tries to slip through the crack.

"What's your name?" I ask again. She pulls her arm away from me, the look in her eyes getting more and more frantic by the second. I hold on tight, finding that my grip is stronger than her struggles.

"Melita," she gasps, and with one last, firm pull she manages to free herself. The force of my letting go pulls her down into the dust and dirt, but it only takes her a moment to take off running back towards the trees.

I stare at her until she disappears from my sight. She wasn't armed, she was just as terrified as I feel. I should have asked her to stay, or I don't know done something. Maybe this is my punishment for everything I've ever done wrong, eternal loneliness. I'm starting to think this is a fate worse than those who have been graciously taken by death.

* * *

**Harlan Pearce, 12, District Eleven**

* * *

I think I've resolved myself to the fact that I will never be able to sleep in this place. No matter how comfortable Carina has tried to make me, it just isn't helping. The forest atmosphere brings back too many memories, and they just refuse to let me sleep without waking in the midst of a nightmare.

Sometimes it helps if I walk around a bit and then try to fall asleep. It both gives me peace of mind that there is no one around, and it helps to tire me out a bit. Either way, here I am doing at least my sixth or seventh ring around our campsite. Far enough away that they won't hear me and think that I'm an attacker, but close enough that I can easily find my way back if I need to.

I've had this strange sensation of being on edge ever since we got into this place, but tonight it feels different. I attribute it to lack of sleep, but it feels like somehow my heart has grown to sit on my lungs leaving me both overheated and gasping for breath. I'll make sure to mention it to Carina tomorrow, she says that she learned a lot about herbs from her time living with the messengers during war. Maybe she'll know something that will take the edge off whatever this is.

Then I hear it. At first I can't put a name to the sound, but as soon as I take another step forward I know that it was footsteps. Not just footsteps, close footsteps.

I pause, putting my back up against a tree so that I am able to see everything around me. It doesn't help very much, considering it's quite dark. I am able to see dark outlines but nothing more. I should have brought a lantern, but that would draw even more attention to me. I swallow thickly, hearing the footsteps echo in my ears.

I look up and grab the branch closest to the ground, heaving myself up into the tree as quickly and quietly as I can. I can't be that far from camp, but I don't really know how to tell exactly how far. The footsteps are closer now, and when I tuck myself into a nook of branches and look out at the forest, I can see a spot of light that doesn't look near as far away as I wish it were.

I put my hand on my chest, hoping to quiet the beating of my heart. I don't know what I am supposed to do. I know that I should find the camp and warn them to take hiding, but the light is so close now that I would risk revealing myself if I came down now. I bite at the skin around my fingernail until I taste blood. I just have to hope that I a long ways away from camp and whoever is holding the light will never come across them in the first place.

I force myself into complete stillness as I glance over the branches, my eyes set on the light that keeps getting closer and closer. I don't know if it has been seconds or minutes since I've been up here, but I begin to see the outlines of two heads as they approach.

Then they stop moving. I hear a sharp sound, as if one of them is shushing the other, and then nothing. Have they spotted me? I don't think the light can reach all the way up here, it doesn't look that bright, but maybe I judged that wrong. I repeat over and over to keep calm, even as every instinct shouts for me to make a run for it.

A second later, I make the mistake of looking around the two people. My eyes had been so fixated by the light that I didn't take the time to look around them. Now that I have, I immediately regret it. Not far from where I imagine the peoples' feet to be I can see the dim light reflecting off of a long spreading of leaves. All of them in the exact pattern that Carina spent all of the first day teaching Flint and Kyra how to replicate.

I put my hands over my mouth to stop the scream that I can feel creeping up my throat.

Time seems to speed up as I see the light move and then be placed down just a few feet away from the shelter. I am at the wrong angle to see any of them, but too clearly can I see the two, quite large, tributes crouch down in front of it.

A shriek shatters my eardrums as Kyra wakes up. I cover my ears, unwilling to hear any of this. They're going to kill them. Kyra, Flint, Carina, all of my friends. They're going to kill them. That's all I can think over and over. They're going to kill them and I'm sitting here without the nerve to do anything but watch with my hands over my ears.

A boy, I now see by the light that there is a boy and a girl attacker, pulls Kyra out from inside the shelter. She struggles against him, her blonde hair going everywhere, but he only wastes precious few seconds before silencing her shrieking. I can feel vomit rising in my throat as I see the large blade come down and her voice cut off a second later.

Flint and Carina have also been awoken, but I only hear Flint for a second before his voice too is silenced.

Suddenly I see a figure bolt from underneath the shelter. I almost cry out for Carina to run faster, but I stop myself a second prior. She's going to make it. Please, please let her make it. I can see her outline getting further and further away from the other two. I push Flint and Kyra from my mind, my only focus being Carina. She's going to make it. She's going to be okay.

Then I hear a sound I have heard many times before, a gunshot. My breath catches in my throat, but nothing seems to happen and I still hear the crunch of Carina's boots against the forest floor. I almost allow myself to sigh in relief, but then the footsteps stop and the forest is silent.

I grab at my own pocket, ripping out the cold piece of metal before I can think about what I am doing. Another gunshot rings out, this one from my own hand, and then silence. I am unable to see anything beyond the tears the cloud my eyes, but I hope to Panem that I missed.

* * *

_**Kyra Lacasse, District Ten**_

_**Flint Calloway, District Twelve**_

_**Carina Ricter, District Eight**_

* * *

**Song: A Pair of Brown Eyes by The Pogues.**

* * *

**A/N: There it is, the big triple death. I apologize to the lovely submitters of these three lovely littles- Jalen, SomeDays, and Salt the Snail. I loved them all, but no one can be safe in the Hunger Games for very long. I was forced to make a plot decision and this was it, I hope there are no hard feelings. **

**It is getting harder and harder for me to kill these tributes. I love them all so much it's probably unhealthy. This story is turning out better than I had hoped, but that doesn't mean these choices still aren't difficult. The Games only pick up the pace from here, so I hope you're all ready for the ride. **

**Reviews are nice, please leave them. I'll put some prompt questions down below to help get you started. **

_**What did you think of the writing in this chapter?**_

_**Who are you rooting for the most at this point?**_

* * *

**Basically it for now. I am still in exams so yes updates are going to be a bit more slack than usual. Hopefully not too long between the next update, however. **


	23. Battle

**Battle by Colbie Caillat**

_Cause this is a battle  
And it's your final last call._

* * *

**Arena Day Four**

* * *

**Jonah Lintell, 16, District Seven**

* * *

I hold my breath as I tiptoe around Adriel and Danican. The bag feels heavy on my shoulder, like it might drop at any moment and wake them. Danican turns over, but thankfully his eyes remain shut. I don't want either of them waking up, it could ruin everything.

Adriel is set on his plan, and there has been no swaying him. He wants to use Danican's knowledge of traps and designs along with my ability to build and activate bombs to cause chaos in this arena. Again and again he has insisted that it is the only way to tip the odds in our favour. Danican's beginning to see his side of things, and I'm getting tired of resisting the comments about my loyalty to the alliance. I'm scared that I'll give in, but I'm just as scared to see what happens if I keep standing my ground.

This is the only way to make sure that the bombs are never even built. I have to get rid of the supplies, and fast. I considered just dumping them somewhere, but it's too much of a risk. I can't be the only one that knows what to do with the half-built devices, we've lived through a war after all.

I have to finish them and detonate them, to ensure that they are gone and will never be used to hurt anyone. Neither of my allies understands how much damage these things can do, and I refuse to let it happen. I refuse to watch one more innocent person killed by these monsters.

It's all fun and games, that's what I thought too. I learned how to build the things during the war, it was my family's way of helping the war effort without sending any of us into the heat of battle. My older sister, Kendall, was the best with them. She had the tiny, nimble hands of a jewellery maker and my father always joked about how when the war was over she would get a job and make her own fortune.

I learned as well, down in the basement with Kendall and my father seated at their own tables with wires and metal and tools of every sort. I wasn't nearly as quick as they were but it was something. I felt important being someone so small that could build these crazy things. It was fun almost, well at least it kept my hands busy for a while.

I didn't really understand what I had been doing until that night in the work shelter. I could hear the explosions outside that sounded like thunder. I remember crying and asking Kendall what could possibly be making a sound that incredibly ear-shattering. It didn't sound like anything that could have been made in this world, it was that loud.

She called it a bomb raid. I didn't believe her. The bombs I had worked on were small, no bigger than my fist. There was no way that they could make that much noise, there was just no way. I'd seen a few detonated before, we tested them in the same way that I showed Danican in training. By placing an impact resistant shield around it, the noise was muted a lot. I'll never know if the bombs I helped make were the same kind that killed my family in the war shelter that night, but I often torture myself and think that they very well might have been.

If there is anything I can do to help it, these bombs will never hurt a soul in this arena. I am done with them doing so much damage to innocent people. I am done with the destruction they cause.

I'm going to build them and destroy them once and for all, and no one is going to get hurt this time.

I make it out of the clearing and continue walking straight. I don't want to get myself lost, but I know that I need to be far enough away that they won't be able to hear me setting them up. I don't think there is going to be any way of muffling the explosion enough that they won't hear it. By then it will be far too late, though, so I guess it doesn't really matter.

It takes a good while to get far enough away that I feel safe pulling the bag off of my back. Inside is exactly what I saw when I pulled everything out to show Danican, six halves of very high-tech looking bombs and electrical tape. Everything is so far simplified that I think just about anyone would be able to figure out how to put them together. Given that I have a history with the things, it only takes me a few minutes until I have all three put together and connected to the detonation timer.

I push the keys until the timer displays thirty seconds. I'm not completely sure how far the range will be, but I assume that this will be enough time to get well out of it. I take a deep breath and press the enter key, praying that the sound of my running will be enough to scare any nearby animals into getting out of range as well.

I launch myself off of the ground, surprised to get not a foot off it before I am pulled back down again. Panicked, I look down at the wiring only to see that they are tangled around my boot. It takes several seconds until I am able to throw the boot off, chancing the look down to see that the timer has less than five seconds left.

I can feel my heart in my throat as I take the last seconds to launch myself a few feet away from where the bombs are placed, curling myself around to protect my head. I can feel the sound waves hit me like a building is collapsing onto me, but I don't even hear the explosion.

* * *

**Melita Crescent, 15, District Six**

* * *

I'm not even sure how many days it has been since Radimir left me. Everything feels like one big blur running back and forth across my closed eyelids. I don't even feel like I am really here. Everything is simply a fog that I have to walk through, except it never really ends.

I should never have been mad at Radimir. It was stupid of me to walk away, I was hurt and on the defence, but I blame myself entirely. I was too quick to resent him. We have always been a team and survived with each other, but the second we separate neither of us survive any longer. Him in the physical sense and I in the mental.

The purpose of my coming with him when he was chosen was to protect him, and I failed in every sense of the word. I abandoned him before I was even sure that he was abandoning me, and now he's gone.

I'm not used to being this alone anymore. If this would have happened a year ago I don't think I would have cared near this much. I have come to depend on Radimir since then, and I like to think that he kind of counted on me as well. We were a team, and now I'm just me. I'm not sure if that's enough for me.

I just feel so impossibly alone.

"Shh, you're still being too loud."

The whisper sounds like a scream in the near-silence of the arena. I hadn't seen anyone for days up until yesterday, and even then I had been terrified beyond anything I have ever felt before. I'm not used to people anymore, and their every move looks like an attack to me now. I can't stop thinking about Radimir, how he was killed so quickly. I can't trust that anyone is harmless.

I freeze and push my back into a tree, crouching down to make myself as small as possible. I don't have anywhere to go, and running would attract way too much attention. I just hold my breath and hope that they're too far away to notice me.

I my breath catches in my throat when I see a blonde head pass over a nearby bush. Her head turns suddenly and she catches my eyes. I freeze in place, everything screaming that I need to get out of there but yet my body refuses to even flinch.

"I'm going to catch up, go ahead without me," I hear a female voice say but there is no response. The crunching of leaves gets closer, but my body is still frozen. I know that she saw me, and I know that I need to get out of here and fast, but my limbs seemed to have forgotten how to work.

Suddenly she appears again, but this time it isn't just fear that keeps me frozen. She has a bow loaded and her eyes are set on me. Even though she isn't close, I can hear her whispered warning clearly. "Don't move."

I nod, my entire body trembling. She motions for me to stand and I do, very slowly pushing myself from the ground with my hands shaking in front of my face as if they might shield me.

"Eileen?" This time it's a male voice that I hear, and he doesn't sound that far away.

"I'll be there in a minute," she calls back to him, and there is nothing more said in response. She never tears her eyes off of me, analyzing me as if looking for something. Then, as if she finally made a decision, her eyes stray to the ground.

"I'm sorry."

Then the arrow flies. That's the only thing I register as my eyes stay trained on the girl. The words seem like a taunt. How dare she tell me she's sorry? Is that supposed to make this okay?

Then the pain comes. It begins in my stomach and travels through my body until I can't even tell where the arrow landed. Everything feels overwhelming. My head spins, or maybe that's just because I'm falling. I must have fallen, at least, because somehow I'm now looking at the sky and the girl is nowhere in sight.

My voice seems to have left me, or else maybe I would be screaming. My hand finds the arrow, and a new wave of pain radiates through me when I pull it from my stomach. Then, all at once, all of it seems to be sucked from me. All of the pain is gone, and I am left just staring up at the sky and it's impossibly clear blue.

* * *

**Adriel Maynard, 17, District Five**

* * *

"He would have told us if he knew he was going to be gone this long."

"I'm sure he'll be back any minute now, we just have to wait," I remind him again. I'm getting more than fed up with Danican's whining, but I can kind of understand why he would be worried. He woke me up at the crack of dawn today to say that Jonah was missing, and it's now well past midday and he still hasn't gotten back. I've tried to come up with every excuse to make Danican shut up, but I know that there is a very good chance that Jonah isn't coming back.

I may have been pushing him harder than I should have been, but I know the method well. I've seen my mother use it against my father countless times to get what she wants, and it's never failed her. I thought yesterday that I was finally getting somewhere, having convinced Danican to go and talk to him. It's been days now and we've still done nothing but sat around. I'm getting more and more impatient by the day.

"It's been hours since I saw he was gone," he sighs. "Where would he have gone? He wouldn't just leave us, would he?"

I am about to give him yet another generic, somewhat comforting response when I consider teh opening. There is a very good chance that Jonah isn't coming back, as much as I have told Danican that he probably would. Jonah and Danican worked together in training, I can only expect that they share some of the same skills.

Even if Jonah did take his backpack with him, I know I can alter my plan a bit. Danican got supplies, it wasn't just Jonah. He's got to have something that we could work with, if I can get him to do it. I might have failed with Jonah, but Danican has already shown he will bend for me. I guess it's time to take advantage of that, and switch his loyalty for Jonah into something that can benefit me.

"Danican, I think we have some things to consider," I do my best to add some defeat into my voice. I plan to, as usual, be the strong voice of reason in this alliance but right now I know that he needs to feel a more caring approach. "Just in case... Just in case he really is gone for good."

"I don't want to think about that," Danican says simply, his eyes not moving from his lap.

"I know, I don't either," I assure him. "But we need to worry about us. We're still in this arena and we still need to do what we need to do to get out. I'd love to take time to worry about him, but the truth is that he left us."

"I'm sure he had a reason, and that he'll be back."

I sigh. "Danican, we can't be sure of that. I don't want to assume things, but it's been hours. I like to think that Jonah was as loyal to us as we have been to him, but if he's not coming back then we have to move on and do what's best for the two of us."

"I know you're right," he begins. "But I can't believe that he would leave us. I thought we were close."

"I know it hurts, but I promise you that I'm going to do everything I can to protect us," I smile. "I'm not going to leave you, and I have a new plan that will protect us."

He looks at me and it takes everything in me to return his gaze. I feel the guilt weighing down on me, but I'm not being entirely untruthful. I will not do anything to put him in danger, but I'm also not going to risk my neck to save him. I'm playing this game for the only person who truly matters to me, and that is myself.

"Promise?"

I'm not sure how one simple word can make me rethink my entire strategy. Can I truly promise that what I said was true? No I can't, but all I have to say is yes. No one is going to blame me for lying to him. If everything happens the way it's supposed to, he won't even realize I lied. No one is going to get hurt if I promise him this, but I still don't feel good about doing it.

"Yes."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I feel a bit better. There is no taking it back now. I know this plan is going to work, it has to. I feel some remorse that it has to be at the cost of someone as nice as Danican, but that is just how things work sometimes. If he really wanted to survive in this he would have come up with something better than my strategy.

That's how life works, the ones who plan and work towards their end goal win and those that are unable to do that never get off the ground. This game is not unlike things I have learned in the factory business. Hard work pays off in the end, and waiting for someone else to take care of things for you never works out.

"Thank you, Adriel," he says quietly after a moment. "I'm glad you're still here with me. I don't think I could do this on my own."

I swallow hard, not quite sure what to say. It was easier before I knew either of them, but seeing Danican's vulnerable side both brings out the opportunistic and guilty sides of me. I know what I need to do, and nothing is going to stop me from accomplishing it, but at the same time I wish it didn't have to go down this way. Danican's a nice guy, but as the old saying goes nice guys finish last.

* * *

**Dallas Audrinne, 17, District Five**

* * *

It takes me a long time to find it, but I finally do after hours of searching.

After leaving, I vowed that I would never return. The place gave me the creeps, but something about it just draws me in. The nights in the forest I have felt unsafe and vulnerable, and my dreams and thoughts always returned to the ruins. I'm not sure what it is, but I just had to find it and see if there was something I missed.

It looks exactly the same as how I left it, dusty and cracked but still somehow standing on its shaky supports. This time, I take a closer look. It really isn't anything special. The walls are tall and made of stone sealed with concrete. There looks like there were once two large windows on the second story but now it's just two gaping holes. A flagpole still stands strong at the very top of the building, but any sign of what it used to bear is long gone.

I decide to get a closer look. With a quick glance around the clearing to look for any obvious signs that there is anyone around. When I don't see any, I make my way towards the building. The ruined walls feel so fragile under my fingertips, like simply touching it might bring the entire thing down on me.

Once again it brings me back to the factories in District Five. They had the same hollow look about them, as if nothing but air lived inside of them. Something else comes to mind, but I can't quite pinpoint it. I stare at the stone blocks and think, trying to capture the memory. I can feel it's right there, just underneath of a few other memories.

Then it hits me, the old Justice Building. One of the few non-factory buildings to be bombed during the early stages of the war. I can hardly remember what it looked like when it was whole, but now I at least know why the material looks so familiar to me. After it collapsed, the material was used to reinforce some of the safe shelters and other important buildings. The stone pattern was seen all over the district, and most of it was still in place by the time I left.

That explains why I feel so drawn to it. The pattern was safety during the war and I guess my brain kept the association. I spent many nights in the safe houses, when the rebels got word of possible bomb raids from their radars. For all I know, this stone pattern is the reason I'm still alive right now. There would have been a lot more casualties in District Five if it hadn't been for it.

The sun is already beginning to set, so I decide there is no better place to camp out for the night. I walk around the building a few times before I find a small crevice that will protect me from being spotted from the forest, but also keeps me open to the sky. I've found it a comfort to look at the sky as I fall asleep. Coming from such an industrial district, I never would have thought nature would have that effect on me.

As soon as I close my eyes the area around me explodes with the sound of Panem's anthem. In a second I open my eyes again and find myself looking at the Capitol seal blocking out the dark sky.

It only takes a few seconds before I see a dark haired boy with stunning eyes. I remember seeing him, but I can't think of anything about him. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth that I am looking at the picture of a dead boy. That's only worsened by the thought that someone else could easily be looking at me in the sky tomorrow and not remember my name either.

The boy's image dissolved and is soon replaced by a pretty girl with dark hair and eyes. I stare at her hard until her image disappears, willing myself to remember her in some way or another. A name, even a memory from our conference or training or something. Nothing comes and as her picture dissolves I find myself forgetting what she looked like at all.

I don't want to be another fleeting thought in another tributes mind. That's such a worse thought than the idea that I might die. I've had time to almost get used to the idea that death is a possibility, one that I'm not hoping to have to accept but a possibility nonetheless. The thought f being forgotten isn't something I have even brought myself to consider, even though it's just as likely if not more so.

I don't have a real family. Sure my aunt and cousins have been welcoming, but I'm not certain that it would be a loss to them if I didn't come back. It's a morbid thought, but not unrealistic. I'm not sure that the four or five people who care about me back home would dwell on me for a terribly long time. They'd all move on eventually and I'd be forgotten.

That thought is a lot more terrifying to me than the idea of dying.

* * *

_**Jonah Lintell, District Seven**_

_**Melita Crescent, District Six**_

* * *

**Song: Battle by Colbie Caillat. **

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is a little bit shorter than usual. I'm not exactly sure why, but I guess that these POVs just didn't require as many words as some others have. Who knows, really? **

**Pretty soon I will be switching back to just three tributes per chapter as the number is starting to go down rather quickly. Hopefully not too quickly, but yeah. I believe that the chapter that will follow this one will be the last with four POVs. **

**Reviews are nice, even for chapters that I'm not happy with. I'd love for you to tell me your honest thoughts and any improvements you think I could make because I really am not too happy with this chapter and I can't even pinpoint a reason why. Help? Oh and I'll put some questions down too. **

_**Plots are starting to unfold, do you have any predictions for our alliances?**_

_**And, of course, who do you expect to be the next one to fall?**_

* * *

**PS: I know she doesn't want me saying anything, but I'm going to anyway so oh well. There is this really cool new SYOT that has been brought to my attention, and well I just thought I'd direct you there and let the writing speak for itself. It's called **_**Crack in Society **_**by blendedblues, check it! **

**That's it, bye until next time! **


	24. Danger

**Danger Line by Avenged Sevenfold **

_Leaving my fear on the danger line,  
Suffering no man should never know._

* * *

**Arena Day Five**

* * *

**Ariella Saville, 14, District Twelve**

* * *

I am awoken to the world shaking around me.

My eyes are still foggy, and my body only half-rested, but as soon as I hear the noise my mind snaps awake. I can't even describe how terrible the sound is, but it's not unfamiliar. The sound of building materials sliding and colliding. The sound of a house falling in on itself, out of all the war sounds this one was the most horrible to hear.

Now it is so loud that I can't even hear my own breathing. The desk vibrates above my head, and one look at the wood that it is made out of tells me that this is not a safe place to be if this building is going to collapse.

I scamper out from under it, the shaking of the building making it difficult to stand let alone walk. I fall to my knees three feet later and resort to crawling the rest of the way to the door. I scream, the sound getting lost entirely, as something falls on the desk behind me, snapping it right down the centre.

Thankfully, the knob turns easily and I throw myself out of the office door. Around me, the scene is no better. The whole, cavernous room is shaking from Panem only knows what and I don't know how much longer the ceiling is going to hold. I throw myself to the ground as the only window that was still whole shatters over me. I can feel the pieces of glass shred parts of my skin, but adrenaline keeps me from feeling most of the pain.

I hope I'll be alive long enough to feel it later.

I look around, my heavy breaths finally starting to overpower the sound of sliding stones. The crack in the wall that I entered through nights ago is gone, covered entirely by debris and a thick cloud of dust. I can see that the majority of the damage is coming onto that side, which only makes sense since it appears to be the weakest part of the already weak structure.

I can't get out the way I got in, so how am I going to get out at all? The other side of the room looks sturdy, and there are no visible places that I could escape through. My eyes rise up a few feet to the window, or I guess it's now better to just call it a big hold in the wall. It's my only chance to get out, but the base of the hole is at least ten feet up and there is no sign of any ladders.

I run over to the area anyway, praying that something will come to me if I look close enough. I run my hands down the wall, and I think I might actually be able to climb up it for a second. I dig my nails into the thin cracks between the stones and push my toes into the wall a couple feet off the ground. I hold myself up for a moment, but it's clear that I am not going anywhere close to up.

I fall down to the ground in defeat. The ground and alls are shaking and there is nothing I can do to get out of here. Maybe I could try to make it through the crack. It's my only chance really, unless I plan on allowing myself to be crushed under these stones when they come crashing down. I don't have high hopes that I would be able to survive that.

Just as I am about to move towards the weaker side of the building I hear a muffled voice. I'm sure that I must be going insane when I can't even make out the words. A second later one of the walls snaps down the middle like a twig, one end tips over slowly giving me enough time to throw myself out of its path.

"Help me!" The words behind the shriek are easy to distinguish now, and I can almost make out the outline of a body behind the thick cloud of dust that replaces the wall. Another stone falls down behind me and I jump, a scream escaping my own lips.

I don't hesitate another second, I run straight towards the direction that the scream came from. The wall fell, there has to be a way out from there. I am running out of options by the second. I cough as the dust settles in my lungs, but I don't allow myself to stop until I nearly trip over a girl.

She is crouched in the meeting point of two walls, her hands over her head and her entire body covered in white dust. I don't know if I would have recognized her without it, but I certainly don't now.

My first attempt at talking only upsets the dust in my throat, but I finally manage to yell above the rumbling. "We have to get out of here! Get up!"

I don't know this girl but I grab her hand and pull her to her feet anyways. I look around for a second before realizing that there is no way out from here. I turn around to run back the way I came in, but I can see very little with the whiteness whirling around us. I walk forwards and hit a wall. Somewhere in the chaos, I lose grip on the girl and her screams finally leave my ears. I begin to panic even more.

I try to scream, but no sound I could make would be able to come close to overcoming the rumbling that erupts from in front of me. Both hands feeling around the wall, I come to the terrifying realization that it too is tipping forwards. By now I can't see anything, but I still try to run in the opposite direction. It doesn't take long before I hit another wall.

As the rumbling overtakes every thought in my mind, I duck to the ground and cover my head with both arms to brace for impact. I'm not sure whether the crushing feeling comes from the dust suffocating me from the inside, or the walls crashing down around me.

* * *

**Venice Durante, 18, District Four**

* * *

"I don't understand what you're so worked up about?" I ask shyly. Connor has been more than irritable for the past few days, but today he just seems out for confrontation. It's scaring me in all honesty. The entire theme of this event is violence and I'm afraid that this will egg him on to do something that he'll regret. The fact that I can see the weight in his pocket from the gun doesn't help to ease my worries either.

He stops pacing and steps towards me. I hold my breath but don't allow myself to flinch away. We're allies and we're supposed to be in this together, but I will make sure that he knows that I am not afraid of him. I am not willing to allow him to think he has control over me, so even if it terrifies me I will stand my ground.

His face is only inches away from mine but I force myself to hold his gaze. "I'm not in the mood for you to tell me that I'm worked up. I'm as calm as a fucking waterfall so cut the attitude."

I nod but say nothing. It won't help the situation to stutter my way through an answer. I know that he knows he isn't acting calm at all, and there is no point in telling him really. He backs up a couple inches but the anger doesn't fade from his cheeks. After all these days, I think the stress is finally starting to get to him.

"Don't tell me what to do," he hisses and I do my best to keep up the calm and rational appearance. Am I scared? Of course I am. I might be taller than him, but I know just as well as he does that I would not be the winner if a fight broke out between us. Especially not with him holding onto that gun like it were made of gold.

"Knock it off." Santana's voice is level but firm, and she pushes Connor away from me. Almost immediately his anger transfers to her, and once again I fear that a fight might be about to break out.

"Don't tell me what to do, Santana," he warns her, but she won't have it.

She's in his face just as he was in mine, matching Connor in height and intensity. "We're a team. Nobody wants to tell you what to do but I sure as hell am not going to let you try and intimidate us. Get you head out of your ass."

He pushes her away from him and for a second I am certain that Santana is going to be the one to throw the first punch. I catch her by the arm in the moment that she stumbles back from him. She turns to me with a look of warning in her eyes, but I shake my head sternly. It's true that Connor is being ridiculous, but there is no sense in provoking him further.

Just as I am trying to think of something to say to break the tension between them, Connor turns around and walks off.

"Where the hell are you going?" Santana calls after him, pushing against me to follow him. I tighten my grip and I can see the flash of annoyance on her face before she stop struggling.

"Let him cool down," I whisper, knowing that Connor wouldn't have wanted to hear that.

She nods but I can still see her shaking with frustration. "What is wrong with him?"

I try to think of something to say that will calm her down, but I just end up shrugging. "I know. I think the stress is finally getting to him. We just have to hope he comes to his senses sooner rather than later."

"I swear if he threatens you again," she begins.

"He wasn't threatening me," I interrupt. "And I can handle myself thank you very much."

She rolls her eyes. "I know you can, but you're letting him walk all over you what's up with that?"

"It's called keeping the peace," I smile. "You should try it sometime."

"You know, that doesn't sound like me," she shrugs. I can tell she is trying to get back to the joking around, but things are getting serious and it's showing all over her face. She's a tough girl, but she doesn't need to be on the defence all the time. Sometimes it's best to let things go every once in a while, to keep certain people happy.

"Unfortunately," I joke. For a second I see a look of question on Santana's face, but it disappears just as soon as I notice it.

"Should we go after him?" She asks a moment later and I note the change in subject. "He's likely to get himself lost and even more frustrated."

"He'll be fine I think," I reply. "I think he needs time to cool off a bit."

"If you say so."

"Oh I do," I say dramatically. "One more second here and I could see him bringing out that gun. I don't know about you but I really would rather not see it that close up if I can help it."

This seems to make an impact on her, because she doesn't say anything for a second. "Do you really think he'd use it on one of us?"

I swallow thickly, wanting to assure her that she's safe but also knowing that anything is a possibility that she should be prepared for. "I really don't know the answer to that."

* * *

**Danican Tobin, 16, District Three**

* * *

It still feels like this must be some cruel, sick joke. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Jonah's face in the sky last night, nothing at all. I could only just barely come to terms with the idea of him abandoning us. To think that he might simply be gone from the world in general is an impossible thought.

Adriel wasn't nearly as upset as I had expected him to be. Perhaps he had considered the grave possibility already and just not told me out of fear that I would be even more upset. He didn't know Jonah like I did, either, so that must make it easier on him.

Up until now I was able to dismiss the faces in the sky. I didn't know them, so it didn't really hit me that they were gone since to me they weren't ever really here. It seems idiotic, but it was blissful ignorance. I can't ignore the ugly face of reality anymore. Jonah is dead and now it's just Adriel and I. It's a lonely thought for a situation that shouldn't be lonely at all.

"How do you think it happened?" I hiccup, realising that my tears haven't stopped like I thought. I must just be getting used to the feeling of wetness on my cheek; either that or my body has gone as numb as my heart.

His face softens when he looks over at me. "I don't think you should think about that right now."

"I can't help it." I am unable to keep the whining out of my voice. I just want to know that he didn't suffer, and that there was no way I could have helped him. He was there when I went to sleep and not when I woke up. Whatever or whoever got him could have just as easily killed Adriel or myself. It doesn't seem fair that it was Jonah, but it would make me feel better if I knew that it would have happened even if I had woken up in time to help.

"Danican, you're a mess. I know it's not what you want to hear, but you need to forget about him and think about yourself. Time doesn't stop for anyone, and we have to keep working."

I sniffle and close my eyes for a moment, making an attempt at composing myself. "It's not right, he was a good person and didn't deserve this."

"I know," he sighs. "He was a good guy and that was the problem. If we would have started with my plan right away whoever killed him might not have even had the chance to do it."

He's right. I mean, of course he's right. Jonah didn't deserve his fate, but really what kid our age could have done anything that would make them worthy of it? This game isn't fair, if it was well it just wouldn't exist in the first place. Maybe Adriel is right about all of this. That morals don't matter here, and we have to bend what we know is right to make it.

Jonah was unwilling to bend and I've seen where that got him. Even stronger than my sadness for his being gone is the terrifying reminder that the same thing could just as easily happen to me. It wasn't easy to ignore the idea before, but it's only gotten harder since I found out about Jonah. Now it feels real, not just a mean joke or a threat. People are really dying and I could easily be next.

"What do we do?" I ask.

Adriel looks over at me with a curious stare. "What do we do about what?"

I inhale deeply, knowing that once the words are out of my mouth they are final. Adriel has shown already that he is willing to do what it takes. It was Jonah and I that were holding him back, but not anymore. "How do we win? What do we have to do to get out of here?"

"I told you I have another plan," he says carefully. "We don't have the explosions anymore since, well yeah. Anyway, I remember that you and Jonah were working on knots and trap for a lot of the training day and you said you secured some rope, yes?"

"I did," I say, looking down at my own backpack. It was pure luck that Jonah and I were each able to gather a bag that contained things we knew how to use. Even before coming here I knew a thing or two about knots and it's not much of a stretch to fashion them into traps I guess."

"Simple then," he smiles. "We set them by riversides, open areas, places where tributes would be likely to set them off. Attach some sort of noise maker so that when they are caught we let everyone nearby know. We probably wouldn't even have to be the ones to kill them."

I nod along as he rattles off his plan. It makes sense, it could work. I like it better than the first one he told us, simply because it gives us the option of allowing someone else to actually be the one to pull the trigger. It would help me to sleep better at night I hope.

"What do you think?"

"It sounds like it could work," I start to say.

He interrupts, putting his hand up to stop me. "It will work."

"It will work," I repeat. "When could we start?"

"Immediately," he says with a grin. "I'm glad to see you're on board. It's the smart move, believe me. You're working for the right team, yourself."

I nod, hoping that he is right and that I am making the right choice. It's hard to tell really, when both choices seem to have such dire outcomes. I guess it's about picking your poison and praying that you won't actually have to drink it.

* * *

**Verden Arell, 16, District Nine**

* * *

"I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry I just can't."

When I look back I see Vera leaning against a tree, blinking towards the sky to keep from crying. I sigh and stop my own steps, turning back towards where she stands.

"What do you mean?" I ask simply. She's been almost silent for two days now, hardly even able to look at me sometimes. I figured that she might be broken up about the other night with those younger kids, and I won't lie that it didn't kill me to see how young they really were. It was dark, I don't even think we would have gone after them if we had known.

"I can't stop thinking about them," she hiccups. "I'm a doctor, this is against everything I stand for. I don't care if this is what it takes, I can't do it anymore."

"Vera, stop it." My voice comes out far more sternly than I meant it to, and the way she flinches back makes me want to take the words back.

"We shouldn't have done it," she whispers and I can hear the pain in her voice. "This is wrong, I won't do it anymore."

"We don't have a choice," I say automatically. "This is what we're supposed to be doing. This is what we need to do to live and to get back home. If we were anywhere else you'd be right but not here. They've sent us gifts, food and water and supplies, that has to mean we're doing the right thing."

"I thought so but not anymore," she says, her gaze falling to the ground. "My body tells me this is wrong and I'm going to start listening to it. This has to stop, Verden, it's gone too far."

I shake my head. She's wrong, she must be. You don't get rewarded for doing the wrong thing, that simply doesn't happen. I've thought about this a lot and I've come to the only logical conclusion. This place isn't like the outside world. It feels different, acts different, and I know now that it has its own set of what's right and what's wrong.

It's wrong to allow yourself to be overtaken. It's right to take steps to improve the chances of your own survival. The reward system has shown me this. When we make the choice to do what needs to be done we get supplies. On the days that we do not or are unable to track down another tribute, we get nothing. It's a simple an effective system where survival reigns supreme. Vera just hasn't figured it out like I have.

"There has to be another way to get home," she says softly. Her face looks so tired and filled with desperation that I have to force myself to look away. "This can't be the only way. I don't believe it."

I know that I have to be firm. She's tired and overwhelmed, but I know that she wants and needs this chance just as much as I do. I saw the spark, the fight, in her eyes during training. There is no way that she would allow herself to just lie down and wait for someone else to do what we have already proven needs to be done.

"This is the only way, and if you don't believe in that anymore then I think it's best that you leave."

"You don't mean that," she says immediately.

I can feel the lump forming in my throat but I know that I have to say this. If she is who I saw in training then she won't leave. If that girl isn't in her anymore than I don't need her with me anyway. This is just how it has to be, even if I don't like it.

"I do mean it. I mean every word. If you can't do it anymore then you should leave because I can and will continue to do whatever I need to so that I can go home to my family. Even if I have to do it by myself."

"I don't want to leave you," she breathes. "You just don't understand. I'm so tired."

Most of me wants to reach out and put my arm around her. I know that it is a difficult mindset to get into, but it's not forever. Whoever gets to leave this place will be able to shut all of this back down and return to the normal set of morals. Eventually the tiredness will go away and she'll be glad she did it all.

I force myself to stand ground, knowing that she needs to come to the decision herself. I am not going to coddle her, and I do not want someone around me that I have to pour fight into. No matter how much I've grown to like Vera, I will not fight for anyone but myself and that starts right now.

"No one is making you do this," I say, doing my best to keep my face blank. "It's your choice and I think I've made that pretty clear for you."

I turn around and continue walking, straining my ears to see if she will follow me. I'm not sure what I'll do if she does choose to leave, I haven't really gotten that far. I'll have to figure something out, I guess, because I've taken several steps already and I can't hear anything but my own breathing.

Just when I have all but given up on her coming after me, I hear quick footsteps coming up behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Vera running towards me. I stop and look at her blankly, wanting her to tell me her decision in words. I don't want to doubt that she is willing anymore. I want her to tell me.

"I'm not going to make you do this on your own. So let's do this."

* * *

_**Dallas Audrinne, District Five**_

_**Ariella Saville, District Twelve**_

* * *

**Song: Danger Line by Avenged Sevenfold.**

* * *

**A/N: I feel so much better about this chapter, maybe that's why it came out a lot quicker than expected. I'm sorry to Sophia and Knifey, Dallas and Ariella were great tributes and I loved writing them but the numbers are dwindling and I have to make important decisions of who to keep. Unfortunately it wasn't them.**

**I hope none of you were expecting something fabulous for the 1****st**** Hunger Games arena with the whole ruins 'twist'. I cringe even calling it a twist to be honest. This story, no matter how much I love it, is ruining my lovely arena creativity. **

**Reviews are great. I thank everyone who has been reviewing faithfully, I really appreciate it like you guys are MVPs. I'll leave a couple of questions here just for fun. **

_**It's getting down to it, who do you see as a potential Victor?**_

_**If you could bring one dead tribute back, who would it be and why?**_

_**And of course, how was the writing/plots/etc for this chapter?**_

* * *

**That is pretty much it! I have exams still, so as always don't expect an update but it will probably come anyway because I am an A+ procrastinator. Bye! **


	25. Strength

**Black Gold by Esperanza Spalding**

_Think of all the strength you have in you,__  
__From the blood you carry within you._

* * *

**Arena Day Six**

* * *

**Harlan Pearce, 12, District Eleven**

* * *

I've decided that I should just stop getting comfortable. Whenever I end up settling down and feeling like I belong in a group of people that I have learned to care about, something always goes wrong.

I hate that I am mourning my family again. I should be over that by now, I mean it's been a long enough time. I didn't think about them near as much when I was in District Eleven even when I had the time to. I knew that all I should be focusing on is survival and that is what probably saved me from starving to death like so many of the other street kids.

So why isn't it that simple now?

I was able to blame someone for my parents' deaths when it happened. I never actually saw them die, but I am fairly certain that they did and just as certain who caused it. Maybe that's the difference. This time it's more difficult to blame someone else when the common denominator in both cases was me.

I know that I could have done something to save at least one of my friends. I should have yelled out. I should have risked giving myself away to give them those few seconds to make a break for it. That was all Carina would have needed was a couple more seconds until she would have disappeared into the forest and hidden herself from the attackers. Who knows, I could have even saved all three of them. I can't be sure that it would have worked but the fact that I didn't even try makes me feel like even more of a coward.

All of this makes me think back to the little bits that I remember before my parents were taken from me. Was there something I should have done there as well? Could I have helped them too? Would they still be here if I had made a decision a little bit faster?

I collapse at the trunk of a tree, a new wave of sobs washing over me. I don't know how to be alone anymore. I let go of all of that when I met people who didn't turn their backs at the sight of me. I let myself accept the fact that it wouldn't just be me against the world anymore and now it's all come crashing back down around me. The loneliness was familiar, but now it has hit me like a vengeful stranger.

My body still quakes as I find the ability to sit myself up once again. I feel lost without Carina, Flint, and Kyra; they were my family even if I only knew them for a very short period of time. They reminded me that I am not just the dirty, begging street child, even without knowing that that part of me existed. It was so easy with them and now I am alone. I don't think it has ever hurt this much to realize how alone I am.

I feel the barrel of the gun digging into my side. Tears collect once again in my eyelids at the thought that I have one of these awful things in my grip. I haven't even allowed myself to look at it since that night. It terrifies me, the power that this small gun possesses.

I shot it at someone. That instance stands out so vividly in my mind and it's the very reason that I know I have to get rid of the thing. For just that one single second I hoped that the bullet would find one of the attackers in the dark. I hoped that it would rip through them as punishment for what they did to my little family. I hoped to hear them cry out in pain and collapse on the ground.

Maybe it was only for a second, but in that moment I lost myself. The strength of my grief and the power of the gun in my hands made me forget that none of the other people in this place deserve to be hurt no matter what they have done. Something made me forget that and I cannot let it happen again. I will not be the one to take away someone else's family because I know how much it can destroy someone.

I turn around and begin to dig, shoving my nails under the dirt until a small dent in the earth begins to grow. I can feel the weight of the gun in my pocket, and a small area of my mind wonders why I wouldn't keep it. I shake my head to try and remove the thoughts. It just isn't me to wield a weapon. I know that people sometimes react with violence when something has been taken from them, but that was never me. I saw the other kids join gangs and get into unspeakable things but I have always known that would never be me.

As soon as the divot is deep enough I reach into my pocket and take out the gun. For a brief moment I turn it over in my hands and it doesn't even look dangerous. A second later I think of the gunshot and the sound of Carina's footsteps stopping. I drop the gun into the hole and wipe my hands on the grass beside me.

I begin to move the dirt back over to cover the weapon. Once I can no longer see the dim metal sticking out from the dirt, my heart begins to race. Without the gun I now have no way to protect myself. I am a sitting duck for whoever I will come across next, and yet I feel better knowing that it won't be me that has to choose between preserving a life and causing a death.

* * *

**Adriel Maynard, 17, District Five**

* * *

I've come to the realization that I might have made a mistake in sticking with Danican after Jonah's death. My understanding of the pair was that both contributed equally to the trap-making capabilities, but I'm afraid I might have been wrong about that.

"Hey, could you give me a hand?" I hear Danican call over to me. I made sure that the two of us were up bright and early so that we could finally get started on this long overdue project. Unfortunately for him, I know little to nothing about the practice and don't really feel like looking inferior to him in any fashion either way.

"Sorry," I exclaim, quickly busying myself with packing up one of the backpacks. "I wish I could but I just noticed how low we are on food and I'm about to go see about finding more. I'm sure you can handle it yourself anyways, right?"

I hear a grunt and something heavy drop before I get my response. "Sure, I guess."

"Perfect!" I call back. "I won't be gone long, just try and finish up this one and if you do then move away twenty more feet before starting the next one."

"Alright," he grunts back.

I roll my eyes and continue putting a few more things in the backpack. I should have the right mind to leave him now that he has proven far more useless than I expected. Just the fact that I was sort of lied to about his capabilities gives me enough ground to abandon him altogether. I know I probably won't do it, but it feels good to remind myself that I have every reason in the world to be frustrated with this situation.

Yesterday I am proud that I was so understanding about what happened. I didn't push Danican, well not anymore than I deemed necessary, and I let him mourn his little friend. Honestly, it took quite a bit out of me to pretend to care that much about Jonah in the first place. I think I deserve a prize for that performance at least.

Don't get me wrong I'm not happy that he was killed, not in the least bit. I simply did not build the same sort of connection with him that Danican seems to have. I've never really had friends my age since I was much younger, and for that I am almost glad. I'm not going to be an emotional wreck when one of my allies dies because they were no more meaningful to me than an inanimate resource. That is how I have rewired my brain to think of people, and I don't think anyone can tell me that that is a bad thing right now.

I dip out of the clearing that we have made temporary camp in so that we could set the traps. Thinking back, it really wasn't wise of us to stay in one place for such a long time, and I am glad that I made the executive decision to leave it behind. Not only will it ensure we do not make ourselves too comfortable, but it also helps Danican to put Jonah out of his mind.

Stupid Jonah, if only he had listened to me in the first place one of us could have already been out of this hell hole.

I kick the ground as I stop to take a breather. I hate that things worked out the way they did. Why couldn't it have been switched, with Jonah being the useless sidekick and Danican had all the knowledge we need. I hate to think it, but the strategic part of me can't help but wish that Jonah was still here. It would be better for my game if I had someone around that was worth working to control.

I shake my head of the thoughts, knowing that it is impossible to change what has already happened. If I am going to come out victorious, I have to work on the present and decide what I need to do to survive right now.

Is it worth staying with Danican? Would I be better off alone?

Unfortunately the answer to both of these questions is no. I can't rationalize that staying with Danican is useful for my survival nor can I tell myself that I would be able to do this more easily if I were alone.

I kick the ground again. It's frustrating to be stuck between two unwanted options. I don't want to be alone and it's not beneficial for me to be alone just yet. However, I am not sure how long that I can bear pretending that Danican is actually helping either of us.

* * *

**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

* * *

"Stop yelling, Connor," I hiss, but today especially Connor is not having any of it.

He puts both hands on my shoulders and shoves me backwards. I cry out in surprise and stumble a few steps before catching my hand on a tree trunk. He stares at me from a few feet away, his eyes full of crazed hatred. "Don't tell me what to do!"

"I shouldn't have to," I spit, getting ready to lunge for him. Venice grabs my arm at the last second and it's just enough to keep me from reaching him. Connor has lost his mind, and he needs a good kick in the ass to bring him back to this planet. I thought yesterday had been the worst of it, but evidently it wasn't.

Venice steps between us, his face almost completely calm save for his eyes which give away his fear. "Stop it, come on. We're a team there is no need to fight each other."

"Then tell him to stop picking a fight," I huff, unable to stop myself. I have no idea what happened to Connor, but every little thing seems to set him off. Yesterday Venice told him to keep his voice down and Connor has been yelling ever since, claiming he isn't scared of bringing the others to us.

Now I am in full agreement that we shouldn't fear a confrontation, but that in no way means we need to set one up for them. He's losing his mind and I'm losing my patience for it. I've dealt with trauma before, which is what I assume is causing the change in Connor, but never when it put my life in danger. I can't afford to have any tolerance for that and at least when we're fighting he shuts his mouth a bit longer.

"Don't test me, neither of you."

The change in his voice is nothing short of bone chilling. All of the anger has vanished, replaced by something I can't even put a name to. When I look up, the first thing I see is the fear written across Venice's face. The second is Connor pointing his gun right at Venice's chest.

My body is trembling when I take a step forward, my hand halfway out in front of me when Connor's gaze shifts to me. "Don't move. I'm not joking around anymore."

"What are you doing?" The words come out with more hurt than I am even allowing myself to feel right now. Even though I am fairly sure that he is not actually going to shoot us, I halt my movements as he said.

"You were going to do this to me eventually," he says through gritted teeth. "Always against me and for each other, it couldn't have been long now. I'm just beating you to it."

"Connor, what are you talking about," Venice says with a shaky voice. He is only half turned towards Connor, his entire body trembling. My eyes go once more to the barrel of the gun and Connor's finger lightly wrapped around the trigger.

In that second I make a choice. With Connor's attention momentarily on Venice, I launch myself at Connor with all of my body weight. My hands scramble for the gun the second I make impact, and thankfully I find it and snatch it out of his grip.

His arms push me off of him and he kneels over me, grappling for the gun. I roll over, momentarily hiding it under my body, but a second later I am face to face with him. I have never been more frightened in my life, especially when looking at someone that I should have little to fear from. A second later we lock gazes, and just the look in his eyes tells me that I am no longer dealing with the Connor that traveled here with me from District Two.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening, and as soon as I hear it I throw the gun over my head as far as I can. I roll out of the way just seconds before Connor collapses on the ground where I just was. I am able to see just a one second glance of the bullet hole in Connor's neck and just that is enough to make the trees go blurry around me. I turn and throw up onto the grass behind me.

"What did you do!?" Venice shouts, but his voice is groggy. I turn back and see him flipping Connor over, pressing his hands to his neck to feel for a pulse. I know there won't be one, not by the looks of where the bullet is buried.

"I'm sorry," I croak, dragging myself over to them.

When I am only a few feet away, Venice turns to me in disgust. "Get away from him!"

"I'm sorry," I say again, though I am not sure if the words even exited my lips at all.

Venice looks back down to Connor and then up at me again. "You killed him."

I don't know what else to say to make this right, maybe because there is nothing. I didn't mean to kill him. I really didn't, but he was going to get the gun back and maybe then he would have really shot Venice or myself. I couldn't let that happen, but oh my god he's right I killed him.

I move towards him again, but he jumps to his feet and backs away from me. "Get away from me."

"Venice," I say, but the word falls flat. I look again at Connor, my body beginning to tremble again even though I can no longer see the bullet hole in his throat.

"You're a monster," he says, the sound of his words bringing me close to tears. He takes a couple of steps towards the edge of the clearing, making it clear that he is going to leave me here, before he turns around and looks at me once again with disgust painted all over his features. "Unless you're going to try and kill me too."

I can do nothing more but shake my head and watch as he disappears behind the trees. I want to go after him, no, everything in me screams that I have to go after him but what more am I supposed to say.

* * *

**Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven**

* * *

The music begins to fade and I stare down at the ground. Even after all these nights it doesn't get any easier to see new faces in the sky. Tonight there was only one, and not one caused by myself, but the thought that someone as young as him is simply gone makes my heart ache just that little bit more.

"I don't understand it."

I look up and see August staring down at me, tears lacing his eyelids. Immediately my hand goes to his shoulder to offer what little comfort I can. What I have learned about August is that he is a deeply sensitive person, one of the many reasons I have chosen to hide much of my activities from him.

"What don't you understand?" I ask.

One tear slips down his face and his gaze turns to the sky as he does his best to blink back the others. "Why do new faces keep on going up each night? Who could keep doing this?"

I swallow thickly, choosing my words carefully before answering. "It's the game, August. People are desperate to make it out of here. Aren't you?"

"I want to go home," he admits. "But this... this is just barbaric."

I can feel my face heating up, but I try to suppress the pain that comes from his words. He just doesn't understand that sometime we don't get to choose what needs to be done.

"It's not us choosing to do it. It's what the Capitol wants."

There is a short pause and I know I have made a mistake. I haven't told August anything about the boy at the bloodbath or the girl from a couple of days ago. I couldn't bring myself to, especially knowing that this is how he would react. I hold my breath, hoping that he didn't catch my slip of the tongue.

"Us?"

When I bring myself to look back at his face, there is a mixture of confusion and concern as he waits for my answer. I want more than anything to just deny all of it, but the tears the follow seconds later betray me. Why can't he just know and understand? It isn't fair that I have to bear this alone, but I knew he wouldn't understand.

"August, let me explain," I say, half-choking on the words as they fall off of my tongue.

He doesn't even seem to have heard me, and his voice solidifies as he continues. "Why'd you say us? You're not like those people who killed the others. You don't hurt people, _we _don't hurt people, Eileen."

I want to tell him that everything he said is right but when I try to speak the only things that come out are sobs. Maybe it's the weight of what I have done pushing down on me or the pressure that these days have put on me. Maybe it's the force behind his words or the darkness of the night, but all I can do in response of his accusations is cry.

Suddenly he pulls himself away from me, looking down at me with hurt and disgust. "Eileen, what have you done?"

I manage to choke out a weak apology, but I'm not even sure that he is able to hear it. He takes one more look at me and suddenly he turns and darts off into the bushes. After a second of shock, I jump to my feet and follow him. I'm not sure what I'm going to do if I catch up to him, but that doesn't matter right now I just need to make sure he is safe.

As soon as I round a corner around one of the trees I hear a voice that stops me in my tracks. My hand goes immediately to my bow, pushing it in front me already loaded with an arrow pointed at him. "Oh look, here she comes."

My entire body is shaking and the edges of my vision are nothing but blurs. The only thing that I can see is a tall boy with his arm locked around August's throat, a knife in the other hand threateningly close to his skin.

"I thought I was going to have to go in and get you when you two went to sleep," he laughs in a low, mocking tone. "Turns out he just couldn't wait that long, could you?"

August's eyes are pinned on me, so wide and unmoving that I could swear he might already be dead. But no, his chest is still rising and I can see his body trembling. He's still alive and I don't know what to do to save him.

I raise my bow and point it at the boy's head, squinting to make sure that I don't miss should I need to shoot it. The boy smiles at me, a sight that makes every part of my body cringe.

"Are you really that confident in your aim?" He asks with mock sincerity. "I mean, one inch off and it's not my blood that will be on that arrow of yours."

I am not confident at all that I will miss August, but I know that I have to make this boy think that I am. Before training I had maybe seen a bow once in my life, and I am in no way willing to gamble for August's life even if it means an attempt at ending this kid's.

"Oh," he says, the smile on his face growing with every word that comes out of his mouth. "I wouldn't take too long deciding either, my partner Vera is somewhere around here and well let's just say that it's a lot easier to shoot a gun accurately."

I am momentarily distracted as my eyes wander around. I don't know who he is talking about or if she even exists, but I know that I have heard gunshot already in this place. I don't doubt that if this girl is real that she can put a bullet through me before I can even realize what happened.

That second of distraction must have been when the boy was waiting for, because all of a sudden I see him thrust August towards me and run in the opposite direction. I call out in surprise, shooting off my arrow just before he disappears through the trees.

I don't wait to see where my arrow lands, dropping to my knees beside August. The first thing I see is blood, and a lot of it. I turn him on his side and his arm jets out to grab mine. I can't help but gag when I see him. His face, neck, and chest are covered in so much blood that I can't even tell where it's coming from. I panic, wiping the blood from his neck trying to find where I need to put pressure to stop the bleeding.

Then all at once it seems like everything goes silent. The twitching of his body stills and his eyes stop frantically moving. As soon as I notice that the grip on my arm has loosened, I know that there is nothing else I can do for him.

* * *

_**August Overture, District Ten**_

_**Connor Leland, District Two**_

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**Song: Black Gold by Esperanza Spalding.**

* * *

**A/N: Wow this chapter is more than overdue. All I have to say is that things hit hard these past couple of weeks and I found that I was not able to write. Things have thankfully settled down, and I hope that there won't be any more of these little breaks before the end of this story. **

**I'd like to say a big apology to Tyler and Remus, this chapter was a very difficult one simply because I had to set up some later plots and that meant that alliance dynamics had to change. Unfortunately that meant that Connor and August had to see their ends a bit early. Believe me, though, when I say that I love writing both of them and will miss them dearly. **

**What else? I think that is it actually. I've been very pleasantly surprised by the dedication that reviewers have had to this story. There aren't that many of you, but you are all appreciated!**

_**What plots do you foresee for the remaining tributes?**_

_**Which death so far has been your favourite (I mean the scene, not the tribute dying necessarily)?**_

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**I have just started my new term in school, but I have plenty of time to write because I have so few courses for the next four months. Hopefully that means faster updates? I'd like to think that it will! **


	26. Obliteration

**Ghost Walking by Lamb of God**

_Obliteration never looked so divine.  
Holding your breath for the moment in time._

* * *

**Arena Day Seven**

* * *

**Harlan Pearce, 12, District Eleven**

* * *

The sun has barely risen and yet I am wide awake and moving. Sleep has been hard to come by the last few nights, and nightmares make it even harder to remain in sleep for more than a few hours. My mind is exhausted by my body is on full alert, amazingly. I never knew what I could adapt to until coming into this place. Not even life on the streets could have prepared my body to take this much torment in such a short amount of time.

It's strange if I really think about what I am doing. For such a long time I have just been wandering around the forest with no real destination in mind. I've considered finding one good hiding place and staying there for a few days, but every time I have stopped it seems that my memories and worries catch up to me. Keeping in constant motion is the only thing that is keeping my sanity intact so that's what I guess I'll have to keep doing.

For how much longer, though? I don't have the answer to that question. I have no idea how many of us are left right now and even less of an idea of how long this is supposed to drag on for. It has to have been a week already and yet I'm still stuck in this place. I'm beginning to think that this could last forever.

I can't stop myself from crying out as my feet go out from under me and suddenly I am flying towards the sky. I claps both hands over my mouth, not trusting myself not to call out again and possibly draw people to me.

It takes me a second to realize what I am looking at. The same color scheme as I have grown used to over the past while, but somehow not the same landscape. It's not until I look down and see the sky that I realize I must be upside down.

My head begins to feel heavy as the blood rushes from my feet and it doesn't take too long before I can no longer feel the rope that is suspending me from a branch by my ankle. I try and reach up to unhinge myself but just that movement proves too difficult. After a minute or so of trying I take a break, closing my eyes to try and alleviate the headache that is starting between my eyes.

My heart nearly beats out of my chest when I hear rustling coming from behind me. My eyes fly open again and I once again try to shake my leg free. The sound gets closer and by this time my hands are shaking too much for me to even attempt to untie the trap.

My vision is already turning a bit blurry by the time I see them enter the tiny clearing where I am. I have no hope in Panem that they won't notice me. I am literally hanging right in front of their nose with nowhere to go. I can't even hear their footsteps now over the blood pumping in my ears.

I try to focus my eyes on the person in front of me, but it only makes the headache tighten in my skull. It's a girl that is definite, with dark hair and skin. I don't remember seeing her before or maybe I have but only briefly. She looks at me for a while as if she doesn't know what to do.

There is nothing else I can do but ask her to help get me down, what other choice do I really have?

"C-could you help m-me?" I stammer and she looks startled to hear me speak. I don't want her to think I'm going to try and hurt her if she helps me, so I show her my empty hands. "I-I don't have any weapons."

She doesn't say a word, but she moves slowly closer to me still seeming very unsure of what she is doing. For a moment I worry that she won't be able to help me at all. Then she takes out a knife which I feel both fear and relief at seeing. I bite my tongue, remembering the gleam of the blade that took my friends away from me. I close my eyes as she gets closer to me with it.

I am relieved when I feel myself hit the ground, the feeling very slowly beginning to return to my feet and the tension headache dissolving. I shake my head, thankful as my vision goes back to normal. I look up at the girl who is biting her lip as she stares down at me.

I smile shyly up at her, knowing that she very well may have just saved my life. "T-thank you so much."

She shakes her head and for a moment I don't understand the response. Then all of sudden, as I glance down and see that she is still holding the knife, I know what she means.

My body begins to tremble, tears filling my eyes. "Please, please I'll do anything. Please just... just don't."

She tears her gaze away from me as I speak. I consider running, but by the time I stand up she would have already been able to catch me. I'm not even sure I could run. My body simply feels frozen in place and I don't think the amount of time I have is enough to convince it otherwise.

She takes a step forwards and I burst out in tears. There is nothing I can do and in theses few seconds I come to realize this. Everything I've done since losing my family and then my friends means nothing because I know it will not be long before I am to join them in wherever people end up after they die.

With nothing else to do I close my eyes, not wanting my last view of the world to be painted in red.

* * *

**Vera Hemley, 17, District One**

* * *

It's easy to see that the dynamic has changed between the two of us. While we used to walk side by side with hushed whispers between us, now he insists that I go ahead of him and we walk in silence.

It doesn't bother me unless I think of how we were in the early days. Truthfully, I don't really feel like talking much. No matter the decision that I came to a couple days ago, I am still not internally content with what we are doing. Verden might be able to ignore his inner protests, but I am not even sure if I really want to quiet them.

What am I without my humanity? I can see the changes in Verden and I refuse to let the same thing happen to myself. While I still care deeply about him, I have also come to fear him. He has let go of almost everything that I trust would keep him from hurting me. I'm not sure how much longer I can safely stay by his side.

"Stop it."

I turn when I hear his voice and see him looking at me with squinted eyes. I swallow hard, afraid that anything I might say could set him off. I have seen what he is capable of and I would be lying if I said that I was confident in trusting him.

"Stop what?"

"You're thinking too much," he says accusingly. I stop so that he can catch up with me, and for the first time in a couple of days I allow myself to take a good look at him. It's hardly the dirt on his face and clothes that makes me look at him twice, or even the smudge of dried blood near his chest. The change is evident in his alert expression and the way his shoulders are tensed like he is expecting a fight.

"I'm sorry," I say, bowing my head. "I'm just trying to make myself okay with all of this."

He looks at me with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. "Get over yourself."

"Excuse me?" I ask. I'm doing everything I can to change myself so that I can stay with him, and all he is doing is calling me out on things I can't help. It's not my fault that I am not so easily able to push away my morals like he is. Doesn't it matter that I'm trying? Trying for him I might add, because this is definitely not something I want.

"You heard what I said," he says, his expression turning to irritation. "No one is making you do anything. If you can't handle this then leave, I don't need you I can take down anyone without your help and I have."

I don't even know what to say. He already said something like this before, but I thought that our partnership meant something to him. I know that he is talking about yesterday, but the plan was to ambush the pair from both sides and the fact that I wasn't around to help was not my fault. Besides, I've helped him do unthinkable things and haven't asked anything else of him but patience in allowing me to get over my mental barriers. I've given up so much of myself to do what he told me to do, and he can't even admit that our alliance means something.

Just as I open my mouth to reply, I hear a low growl come from the surrounding bushes. Both of our faces go blank when we hear it, the argument momentarily gone from our minds. I look at him for some sort of acknowledgement that he heard the sound as well. The horror in his eyes is enough to tell me that I did not imagine it.

I can feel the ground vibrating beneath me, but neither of seems to have found the ability to move. Then I see it. There is no name that I can put to the enormous creature that appears less than twenty feet from us. It is at least seven feet tall and covered in brown fur. It bears its teeth when it sees us, drops to all fours and rushes right for us.

I scream and take off running, Verden already two steps ahead of me. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, the sound so loud that it blocks out the sound of the creature closing the distance between us.

I grab the gun out of my waistband, shooting it as soon as I turn around. The animal roars with pain, but the bullet hardly even slows its pace. A second after I shoot the first bullet I feel the strength of its paws as it tackles me to the ground, the gun flying from my hands. I try to struggle underneath it, but the sheer weight of the creature seems to have knocked all of the fight from my body. I gasp for breath, turning my head away from the animal.

I see Verden standing not ten feet away, his eyes wide and fearful. I scream out his name and he snaps out of the trance, glancing between me and the animal that traps me beneath it.

"Verden! Help!" I scream again, the animal's face just inches from mine.

Suddenly, Verden takes a couple of quick steps towards me and I cry out for him to hurry. He grabs the thrown gun off the ground and looks at me again. I can't breathe enough to scream again, let alone yell out for him to hurry like I wish I could.

Then, he turns in the opposite direction and takes off. I can hardly process what he is doing, but the betrayal that I feel in my gut is impossible to mistake. I face the enormous snout of the animal, struggling for another second before its jaw comes down on my shoulder. The pain is excruciating, and my vision blurs. Verden is not going to save me, I realize in the second before the pain makes the world go black. He's leaving me here to die.

* * *

**Jalissa Kessey, 18, District Three**

* * *

Another quiet night between the two of us, as it has been for a while now. Hollis has completely curled up inside himself, leaving me on the outside wondering how I could have been so selfish as to force him to see the truth behind it all.

I felt awful that he didn't know, but I mean how could he not have realized? There are so many of us and, even though I know that the rebellion was widely accepted with most of the district people, it is difficult to think that he could be the only Capitol supporter amongst us. Even my own family was considered neutral during its course.

I just wish I hadn't have told him. Then I would still have someone to keep me out of my own thoughts. I have tried to get him back into conversation, but each time he answers my questions with short phrases or even just a word. He doesn't want to talk, but for purely selfish reasons I need him to come back to me.

"Have you ever seen this many stars before?" I ask.

He jumps, his eyes wide when the meet mine. He shakes his head and his gaze turns back to the ground without a word.

"I guess maybe I just never took the time to look, there was so much rebuilding going on when I left that you could hardly tell the sky from the dust. Did District One have a lot to do after the war?" I try again, not willing to give up so easily tonight. I have been almost completely without the comfort that conversation brings me for a few days now. I'm hungry to get something, even if it's one sided.

"Mother didn't let us go out," he says quietly. "She said it was too dangerous."

"Oh," I say, my energy flattening. I hate that I keep bringing up more memories for him to question. It's only natural that if his family was so misinformed about this event that they might have led him astray in other ways as well. I just want him to stop thinking about it. Seeing the lost look in his eyes night after night is enough to almost bring me to tears.

Just when I think the conversation is long over, his head peeks up again. I am relieved to see the confusion gone from his eyes for even this one second, that is until I recognize that it has been replaced by fear.

"What is it?" I ask in a rushed whisper.

He looks around the small clearing suspiciously and I can't help but follow his gaze. "Do you hear that?"

"No," I answer immediately. A second later there comes a rustling that doesn't sound very far from us. I cover my mouth to keep from gasping. We are not alone, there is someone or something here with us.

He gets up, supposedly to check where the sound is coming from, but I pull his arm back down and shake my head. There is no way that I am allowing him to go after whatever is out there. I keep one hand to my lips, fearing that maybe my breathing is loud enough to bring the attacker to us. Hollis and I scramble on our hands and knees towards a tree, keeping our backs to one another.

I scream when something comes out of the bushes in front of me, shoving myself to the ground to avoid it. A boot lands in the dirt just beside my head, then another makes direct contact with my nose. I gasp in pain, but I only feel it for a moment as adrenaline kicks in.

The attacker lands on top of Hollis, easily pinning him to the ground. Someone screams again, but I couldn't tell whose lips it came from this time. I try to grab one of the attacker's feet to pull him off of Hollis, but end up with another boot this time striking my shoulder.

"Run!" I hear Hollis scream, and a moment later I am on my feet. With one more terrified look towards him I take off running.

I stumble over something and go sprawling down into the dirt. Pain echoes from both my nose and my shoulder, and I become aware that my face is now caked with dirt and tears. My breaths come rapidly, both from terror and exhaustion, and I crawl towards a thick bush a few feet away and conceal myself the best that I can.

My mind can't help but wander to Hollis, knowing in my aching heart that I have let him down. I was supposed to protect him as readily as I know he would have protected me. Yet it didn't take much convincing for me to leave him behind.

"I know you can hear me," a raspy voice cuts through the sound of the blood pounding in my ears and my blood goes cold.

It takes everything to make myself remain still. All I want to do is get up and run far, far away from here, but I have to believe that he doesn't know where I am. It's hardly been more than a minute or two since I ran from the clearing. Does that mean that Hollis got away from him and he chose to come after me instead?

Please, please let Hollis be alive.

"Come on our, darlin', don't make this difficult for us," he continues, his footsteps getting closer with every word. It sounds like he's right on top of me, and I know that one loud breath could bring him upon me. His footsteps momentarily stop and I hold my breath.

"You're putting up more of a chase than your little friend, I'll give you that much."

His footsteps restart, this time getting further away from my hiding place. As soon as I can no longer hear him, I take a big breath which quickly collapses into all consuming tears. If what the boy said is to be taken seriously, I am never going to see Hollis again and it's all my fault.

* * *

_**Harlan Pearce, District Eleven**_

_**Vera Hemley, District One**_

_**Hollis Bale, District One**_

* * *

**Song: Ghost Walking by Lamb of God.**

* * *

**A/N: That was a bit of a chaotic chapter, I'll admit that. Three POVs, three deaths, and three more steps towards revealing the Victor. I'd like to apologize to Elim, Light Blue Light, and Honeymouse. These three were some of the tributes that I spent a good deal of time developing, but in the end they each had to go for one reason or another. I hope you understand!**

**And here we have our final seven! It won't be long now until this story comes to a close and though I am dreading it I am also very excited to write what I have planned. Hopefully everyone is still enjoying the story and remember that reviews are very encouraging for me to update more quickly (hint, hint). **

_**Who are your predicted final three? Why? **_

_**Who is your predicted Victor? Why?**_

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**Next update should be in a few days so look out for that! **


	27. Lost

**Each One Lost by Bruce Cockburn**

_If that sounds like confusion,__  
__Brother think again.__  
__We know exactly what we chose._

* * *

**Arena Day Eight**

* * *

**Danican Tobin, 16, District Three**

* * *

"Are these things set up right? Not one of them has been set off yet."

I choose not to answer him. I'm simply too tired to handle Adriel right now. I have been working for hours on end to set up these traps by myself, and he's done absolutely nothing to help me. Every time I ask him for a hand he makes up a reason why he can't. I know that this might not be his forte, but in all honesty it's not mine either.

I have spent a lot of my life building and making things, but I've never made something strong enough to trap a human being. It's difficult, and the supplies aren't quite what I need to be able to make the things. I have to improvise a lot, and that along with the physical and emotional exertion is beginning to wear on me. I just want him to help me do was his idea in the first place.

"Are you going to answer me?"

I turn and see Adriel with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at me. I feel my body wilt under his stare and I hate the feeling that it gives me. I don't want to be afraid of him, but I am. I hate how he is acting now, it's so different from how he was when we met in training. More than anything, though, I hate that I am too terrified to stand up to him.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "They worked when I tested them, so I think they should work."

"Think and should are not exactly telling me that you know what you're doing," he says sternly, raising one eyebrow.

I look down at the dirt, trying to keep myself from showing him the hurt in my eyes. I'm doing my absolute best to do what he's asked of me because I thought in some strange way we were becoming friends. I don't understand why he's being so sharp with me when all I'm trying to do is give him what he wants.

He walks over to one of the traps, looking at the rope concealed with moss and leaves. It's not perfectly hidden but it was the best I could do. At least it doesn't look as out of place as it probably could. Especially at night I don't think anyone would really notice it.

"You couldn't have hidden the ropes any better?" He snorts, pointing to one piece of the rope near the bottom of the trunk that has become exposed.

I start over to fix it. I know that it was fully concealed when I left this site, I made sure of that. The wind must have moved the leaves around, but why is he acting like that is my fault? I don't understand what I have done that he feels the need to be so mean.

"Sorry," I mumble under my breath as I scoop up a handful of earth and pour it over the exposed part, feeling Adriel over my shoulder the entire time. When I'm finished I stand up and he is glaring at me. I break his stare almost immediately, I can't help it.

"There wouldn't be a reason to apologize if you were competent enough to do it right the first time," he snaps, turning away from me.

I close my eyes for a second to collect myself. I shouldn't let his words get to me, but it's been days of this. When we met in training I could never have predicted him saying these things to me. I hardly recognize them as being the same person. The Adriel from before was kind and interested in what Jonah and I had to say. This person in front of me couldn't care less about me if he wanted to.

That's the difference. Adriel doesn't care about me, in fact I'm not even sure that he sees me as an ally anymore. All he has done so far is use me and, I realize now, try to use Jonah for the skills he thought we had. Jonah didn't let him, but I have. Everything he's done to me is my fault because I didn't stop him.

I have the sudden urge to push him to the ground, and I almost give into the thought. Before I can make the decision to, I see Adriel trip forward and then just before he hits the ground his body goes flying upwards. It takes me less than a minute to realize what has happened, Adriel has set off the trap.

His eyes are wide as he looks around at the world upside down. His eyes settle on me and suddenly his face goes red, though I'm not sure if it's from the blood rushing to his head or not. He glares at me for a moment, and when I don't make a move to help him he snaps at me again.

"As much as I'm sure you're enjoying the view, it would be much more useful of your time to get me down from here."

The sharp smugness in his voice even now makes something inside me snap. I can feel all the anger that I have been too scared to express begin to boil over. Even at a time when he needs my help he can't even try to be kind to me. I'm done with everything he's thrown at me since we got into this awful place. It's about time he realized that he can't do this without me and started treating me like a partner instead of a tool.

I'm afraid that my voice will break if I try and say something, so I deliver my message by simply turning around and beginning to walk in the opposite direction. I try to ignore Adriel's yelling as I do, knowing that if I give in to him so soon I will not see any change in him. My immediate plan is to let him steam for a while and then cut him down in a while.

That's until I hear the next thing he yells, louder than anything else.

"I'm going to kill you when I get down from here!"

My skin feels cold as I continue to walk away, knowing now that there is no way I'll be able to go back to him now. The feeling of regret that came on abandoning my only remaining ally is swallowed as I get further and further away, leaving only a calming sense of relief.

* * *

**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

* * *

I close my eyes so that I don't have to look at the boy hanging dead by his ankle as I walk away. I've been right twice now about hanging around near these traps. I'm not quite sure who it was that set them, but there has been no sign of them in the past few days. Either they forgot where they set them or, more likely, they died before they were able to check on them.

I'm not sure if that saddens me or if I'm envious of them.

The tributes who have already been killed in a way have it easier than the rest of us. At least they are out of this place and away from the terrible thought that at any point you could run into your own murderer. This is not a place that I think anyone would ever choose to be. No matter how odd it sounds to be envious of the dead, I am. They have freedom- something I am severely lacking.

I've thought about ending it myself. That night after Venice left me to myself I considered it for hours. It didn't seem worth it to fight fate any longer as each night I was forced to stare into the eyes of those that had failed all the while knowing that I could easily be next. I had to wonder how terribly painful it could be to just end this torture myself.

When I woke up the next morning I couldn't even begin to describe the relief I felt that I was still alive. I held onto the feeling, forcibly and shakily, and that's how I've gotten through the past few days. No matter how strong the urge to give up becomes, I won't allow myself to give in to it. I am going to do everything that is in my power to ensure that my life is preserved.

Staying with Connor and Venice so long has inhibited me from these feelings, this strong desire to live. It might just be the shock or the adrenaline, but I found it oddly easy to put both Connor and the other two boys out of my mind. In a place like this selfishness has to be my first priority and I'm learning that.

If Venice thinks of me as a monster then let him. Isn't that what I need to become in order to survive? A cold, heartless killer like the Capitol wants me to be. After what happened with Connor I have chased off the only person whom I was certain would have my back no matter what. Who is there left to try and impress?

No one who won't understand. No one who I will have to stab in the back to get home where I am needed. With Venice choosing to leave me he has also showed me where we stand. I no longer fear the possibility of it being us two at the end, in fact I welcome it.

I will not allow someone to impact me as much as he has, not ever again. I have lived my life detached from people in order to survive and it was stupid of me to stray from what I knew. I will survive this, I know I can, and no one will hold me back.

If that makes me a monster then so be it. I'd rather be a monster than be dead.

There is a beeping sound from above and I immediately duck to the ground, worrying that something is coming to harm me. My body is trembling against the ground for at least a minute before I risk looking up.

When I do I see a white piece of fabric laying in a puddle at least ten feet away from me next to a thick bush. I scramble to my feet and go over to collect it. When I go to pick up the white fabric, so white and clean that I marvel at the sight of it, I see that there is something underneath it. I inspect the silver case and, upon poking at the sides of it, I find that it opens.

Inside of it there is a bag of oats and berries along with a white piece of paper. Without a second of hesitation I begin to pour the bag of food into my mouth so quickly that I gag as it hits the back of my throat. I haven't had more than a handful of herbs since the incident with Venice and Connor. All of the safe food that we had was in the bag that Venice took with him. Connor became paranoid that someone was going to try and steal from us, so Venice agreed to put poison on a third of our food supply all of which was in the bag he left me along with the gun and knife.

I'd been so hungry these past couple of nights that I almost decided to try my chance at how lethal this poison could really be. Thankfully I haven't yet and I'm not even sure why I've decided to keep holding onto it, knowing that it could very well get me into some trouble if I'm not careful. I just can't seem to bring myself to get rid of it, and who knows it might come in handy.

I don't even think to look at the scrap of paper until after the food is long gone. I unfold it and it takes me a moment to understand how to read the carefully printed letters, it's been such a long time. I bite my lip as I read the short sentence, unable to blink away the tears that gather behind my eyes.

_You're doing the right thing, your family must be proud. –Pascal. _

I have tried so hard to push all thoughts of my family from my mind, but these words from Pascal have brought them all flooding back at once. I have to rub my fingers against the side of my head to try and quell the headache that begins to burn behind my eyes. If I am going to do this I have to keep all thoughts of my parents out of my head because, despite what Pascal says, they will not be proud of me.

* * *

**Verden Arell, 16, District Nine**

* * *

I hit my fists against the side of my head to get the bad thoughts out but it doesn't seem to be working. I didn't even think about Vera last night, but that must have been because I was busy. Now she's all I can think about and I just want to scream at her to get out of my head.

It's good that she's not here anymore, isn't it? She didn't even want to be here. She had given up it was easy to read that just by looking at her face. Vera wasn't worthy of winning, she wasn't willing to do what it takes to survive like I am.

So why do I miss her? I knew she wouldn't be here forever with me, even if it was nice to have someone. I'm better off without anyone to distract me, especially someone like her that doesn't share my desire to live.

I don't miss any of the others, the ones that have died because of me. I didn't even know their names, but even if I did I don't think I would miss them. That's how the world works in this place. Not everyone is going to take the chance to live, even if it's right. They're still stuck in the morals of the old world. They couldn't let go of those and now they're gone. It's not my fault.

If they would have wanted to live they would have fought back. They would have killed me before I killed them. The fact that I'm still here proves that they didn't want it. I want it and I will take it until someone wants to live more than I do. I don't think there is anyone that wants this more than I do. Not one person I have met yet does at least, and there can't be that many more of them left.

The only ones that worry me are the two blonde girls. Eileen is one of them, she managed to escape me because Vera wasn't with me to help. Just the fact that she lived worries me, though, because I don't know where that leaves me. Then the other girl, the one whose name I don't know. She left her ally and then I couldn't find her after that.

Does the fact that they were able to evade me make them more worthy of winning than I am?

I've done too much, lost too much of who I am, to lose now. Winning is the only option I have, and I have played by all their rules so I deserve to win. I have done everything that Petra told me to do and more. No one can say that I haven't been playing the game fully. I don't know what else they could want of me, but if they just made it as clear as putting tributes in my path then I would not hesitate to do that too.

I just want to be able to see my sisters grow up. I have spent more than half of my life trying to take care of them and my mother so that all of them can have the lives they want and deserve. I have worked long hours at the mill so that maybe when they get old enough my sisters won't have to get jobs themselves. I have worked so hard to get my family through all the hard times that we have had to face, and this little game is not going to stand in the way of my family.

I don't care who I have to go through, I am not going to give up. I will not let my family lose their second father figure. That is not an option. I want to win for them, no, I _have _to win for them.

"Petra just tell me what to do," I whisper up into the sky, hoping that somehow she can hear me. Her words of encouragement in those little silver cases have reminded me again and again what is at stake. I need her encouragement right now. I don't care about the food or the weapons that she has sent with them, I have plenty of both. I just want her words.

I wait for the telltale beeping that tells me I'm about to receive one of her packages, but several minutes later I still don't hear it. I swallow hard, unable to help the feeling of loneliness that swells in my chest. I've never asked for her gifts before, but I figured she must have some way of seeing that I need one. Her words have been too specific for her not to be watching me. She has to know.

Still nothing comes and another few minutes later I resolve to sit down and wait. I'm scared that if I move away from this spot I might miss it, so I know that I have to say.

"Petra, I need you," I whisper, the defeat audible in my voice. "Please, Petra. Please."

The air around me remains silent except for the usual forest sounds, and I finally understand that she is not going to be making contact with me right now. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, comforting myself with the idea that she might have stepped away for some reason and not heard me. Still though, for maybe the first time since I got here, I begin to truly feel alone.

* * *

_**Adriel Maynard, District Five**_

* * *

**Song: Each One Lost by Bruce Cockburn.**

* * *

**A/N: Here we are, final six! I still cannot believe how quickly this story has gone by and how fast tributes are falling now. I'd like to apologize to Bo and thank him for making Adriel. Though he was arguably one of the least liked tributes in this story, I loved him from the second I got him. His alliance with Danican/Jonah was a joy to write, and unfortunately for Adriel I have had this death planned out for him for a very long time. I loved him while he lasted, but I never could see him as a Victor no matter how much I adored him. **

**I am very thankful for every review I am getting, especially from those of you who have already lost your tributes. It honestly makes me so happy to see you all enjoying the story enough to review, so thanks again!**

_**Which tributes do you predict for final three?**_

_**Any predictions for the remaining plot outcomes?**_

* * *

**Next update shouldn't be too long, a few days probably. **

**For those of you who haven't yet seen, I have opened up a new story called **_**All Eyes **_**that is going to begin after this story has ended. It is a very interesting (in my opinion) alternate universe involving a new district, new rules, and Gladiators! Hopefully everyone will check it out and maybe submit! **


	28. Tears

**Fistful of Tears by Maxwell**

_We gon fight the war,  
We gon fight our fears,  
The only thing I wanna throw is a fistful of tears._

* * *

**Arena Day Nine**

* * *

**Venice Durante, 18, District Four**

* * *

No matter the amount of time that has passed, I just cannot seem to get the scene out of my mind.

Connor was wrong to threaten me, but I knew in my gut that he never would have done it. We'd spent a week or so with each other, there is no way that someone could throw that all away because of a few high nerves. I was never exactly scared of Connor shooting me because it was simply surreal to me that anyone I considered my friend could be capable of such a thing.

I've started to wonder if maybe he would have, despite all evidence against it. I mean Santana, one of the only people that I have been able to put nearly all my trust in, was able to abandon herself so easily. Logically, it makes sense that Connor could have done it as well.

The only thing that matters to me is that he didn't. Connor never hurt anyone and Santana took his life away without a second of hesitation. The girl I met in training and got to know in the first few nights in this arena would never have done such a thing. The only explanation I can come up with to explain the horrible action was that I never knew her at all.

I hate her. I hate that she wiped away all of the security I was able to create in our little campsite. I hate that I liked someone based on a blissful facade they created for me. I hate how stupid she has made me feel for ever trusting anyone.

I've lived a mostly solitary life for a long time, a life that I preferred over something that might be more exciting for most people. My father's library was my first home and the place I spent most of my childhood and even recent years in. There were so few people that I let into my sanctuary- not just the library, but my own mind really. I can count only one person from home that I would have chosen to be around rather than be alone, and that's Ivanna.

In a lot of ways, at least in the early days of our alliance, Santana reminded me a lot of Ivanna. Both are rather more on the quiet side, but the words they choose to say are carefully constructed for the situation. Especially in a district that valued a physical career on the water over anything intellectually stimulating, Ivanna was one of the only people who understood my desire for knowledge.

I used to feel like the three of us, Ivanna, Santana, and I, would have gotten along if we had all been born to the same district. In a situation where I would have ordinarily chosen to go out on my own, Santana made me consider the benefits of being around other people. I even allowed myself to enjoy the company of my alliance members. After leaving behind my best and only friend, that was something I never expected to find here.

And it was all a lie.

Santana is nothing like the person I credited her for being. Ivanna would never have hurt anyone, and the Santana I thought I knew never would have either. All of us understood the implications of why we were here and what the Capitol expected from us, but I thought it was an easy decision for all of us to try and survive at the cost of no one else's life.

After talking with Santana a while I had even begun to agree that it might be necessary to hurt someone defensively. Say if we were attacked or if we come across someone hostile. It was her that reminded me that it might have to happen, and I can see now that was when things began to change.

I can understand harming someone that was going to harm you, that is a simply case of self-preservation which I've seen mentioned in a few of the locked-away-novels in the library. What is completely unthinkable to me is hurting someone that was a friend. Connor was our friend, and Santana killed him. He's dead, our alliance is broken, I'm alone again all because of her.

Everything I have become comfortable with, and both the people that I was able to find a safe place with, are gone. There is no apology in the world that is going to put any of this back together and it's unfair. It's unfair of her to even ask me to forgive her for shooting our friend right in front of me. She doesn't even seem to understand what she's done and that's how I know I was fooled.

The girl I thought I knew was smarter than that.

I have tried to get her out of my mind entirely, but how could I? Connor and her were everything that mattered to me for such a long time. Am I expected to simply let go of all of that? It's impossible to expect that of myself, but still it would be so much easier.

I need to let go and forgive in order to heal, my father taught me that. He was good at putting things into perspective, but my thoughts have always been much clearer cut. He could just sit down and think about things, and that would make things better for him. I've tried doing that several times throughout my life but it's never worked. The more I think about things the more my emotions begin to heighten, which is the exact reason that I would choose to distract myself with a novel. Books have always had a calming, distracting capacity for me, but here in the middle of nowhere all by myself there is nothing to take my attention away from my frustrations.

I've always considered myself level-headed, but I can slowly feel myself straying from that. I've never given myself the opportunity to explore this part of me before, and I think that may be the worst part. Not knowing what to expect anymore, not even from yourself.

* * *

**Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven**

* * *

It takes a certain kind of concentration to be on alert for such a long time, and my mind is exhausted there is no other word for it. Still, though, my body seems to have memorized the actions I need to take to ensure I am not surprised. That's why, thankfully, when I see the small splash of yellow out of the corner of my eye I am able to act immediately.

I throw my back up against a thick tree trunk, my heel hitting it hard enough to make me cringe. One hand secures the bow in position, the other is at my back and pulling an arrow from my dwindling supply. It only takes seconds before I am still again, my arrow aimed at the spot of yellow and my arms holding the bow back.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, then finally my eyes wearily focus on what's in front of me. The splash of yellow that I spotted is a shirt worn by a boy that looks around my age. His face and all other exposed skin are blotted with dirt, and his short hair is greased down against his head. He wears a very similar outfit to mine, but his is a lot cleaner.

He is sitting at the base of a much larger tree, his puffy eyes staring up at me in surprise. I stare at him for a couple seconds as he puts both hands in front of him, showing me his empty palms. He is not armed, good that will make this much easier for me.

I tell myself twice to let the arrow fly but something keeps my, now aching, arm in position. I can't help but feel a twinge of familiarity in this situation.

I flinch when the memory hits me. That boy, holding August by the throat with a knife. This isn't the same thing, I remind myself. August is dead, and this boy is not your ally. That monster that killed August is nowhere to be seen, and you are not in danger. It's just another tribute that has to die so that you can make it home. You've done it before, you can do it again I remind myself.

"Go ahead," the boy whispers, his voice cracking on the second word. He's giving up?

That's the similarity. The look on his face, I can see now, is exactly the expression that August wore in his last moments. Of course there is fear, but more so than that there is defeat and an understanding. August knew he wasn't going to make it away from the boy in time. He knew I wasn't going to be able to save him.

Just like this boy knows that he will not be able to make it away from me in time to save himself.

I feel sick with the idea that my presence can create the same fear for this boy that was created for August. For a second, my bow begins to lower. Then I catch myself, tightening my grip again and forcing myself to take aim. I can't allow him to get away, not if I want to make it out of this place. I have no choice, I have to kill him.

Still my hand will not release the arrow. I cannot stand the thought of him giving up. I don't want him to be like August. I want him to have a chance even if he doesn't. I cannot make myself shoot him when he is doing nothing but stare at me. He's done nothing to deserve this and I just can't do it no matter how many times I tell myself that I have to.

"W-what are you waiting for?" He asks through closed eyes.

I blink back the tears, only the thought of August enough to bring back the grief. "Fight back."

He opens his eyes and looks at me with a strange look. "W-what?"

"Fight back!" I yell, frustration leaking into my voice. I don't want to be a monster. I don't want to be like that boy who took August away from me without even giving him a chance. The boy doesn't move so I yell again. "I said I fight back!"

"No," he replies. "I've done horrible things. I deserve to die. Please just do it."

There it is, but even the boy telling me directly to do it doesn't seem to be enough. He isn't August, I tell myself again. This is just another difference. This boy says he has done awful things, but August never has and never would have. He isn't August, August is gone and dead and I still have to find that boy who did it.

The thought of August's killer is enough that my grip finally loosens and the arrow flies out of my hand. I realize that my eyes have been closed, and when I open them I see the boy still sitting in front of me with my arrow sticking out of the middle of his chest.

I cover my mouth with both hands and collapse to my knees. My eyes don't leave the boy, whose trembling hands grip the arrow and wide eyes stare back at me. It must be only a few seconds that we hold eye contact, but it feels to me like decades. Then, just as if he has suddenly fallen asleep his body slumps against the tree.

I crawl towards him, blinking back the tears that threaten to run down my cheeks. I touch my fingers to the place where my arrow has entered his body. I ignore the blood that washes my hands, knowing that I should pull the arrow out. I only have three left, and losing this one would mean that I only have two. Still, I cannot bring myself to do it. I have already taken enough, this can be his to keep.

* * *

**Jalissa Kessey, 18, District Three**

* * *

It's been two days and I haven't eaten.

That's the only thing that is on my mind as I trudge my way through the trees, blindly putting one foot in front of the other. It's far past night time but I have already slept most of the day. There is nothing else for me to do but pick my way through the forest and hope to stumble upon something. At this point I've considered eating the leaves off of the ground, but I know that I cannot trust them.

I did not have the time to grab anything before I left Hollis, not that we had a whole lot of food to begin with. I have been wracking my brain as I pick through the few herbs and berries that I have come across in this place. I'm not sure if it's the exhaustion or if I truly haven't been able to recognize any of them. I should know at least some of them from my school books, but I never much paid attention during those classes.

Is it better to risk eating something I can't name, or risk starving to death altogether?

I know the answer to that question easily, but if there is one thing I remember from the botany classes it's that choosing the wrong plants can bring about a whole slew of side effects some that would result in death. In a place that is hell bent on killing us I don't think it's a stretch to think that a lot of these plants could be lethal.

My breath catches in my throat when I see something unusual in the pattern of the forest shapes. I tiptoe to get a closer look, not entirely trusting my vision especially in such dim moonlight. Closer inspection tells me that my eyes are not playing tricks on me. There is someone there.

The first thing that comes to mind is food. If they're still out here there has to be a chance that they have food unless they've recently been as unlucky as I have. I shake my head slightly, telling myself no. I cannot go near whoever it is. That would be certain death if they saw me, and even in my desperation I should not be this willing to take the chance.

Whoever it is they're sleeping. I could go in there, grab whatever supplies they have and be gone long before they even wake up. As long as I'm quiet they won't even have to wake up. They won't know what happened, maybe they'll even think an animal snagged it.

It would be so easy.

The desperation convinces me, and I sit myself down on the ground to unlace my boots. It will be easier to move around them without them hearing me if I take my shoes off. As soon as I stand up and my feet sink half an inch into the mucky ground I regret the choice, but I know it will be necessary to do this as stealthily as possible.

It's easier than I thought it would be. With no more than a look down at the sleeping girl, her dark hair covering most of her face, I am slipping as far away from her as possible. It's not long before I am unable to stand the wait any longer. I throw the bag down along with my shoes and root through it, looking for anything the even resembles something edible.

I almost start crying when I pull out a plastic bag and, after holding it up to the moonlight, see that it is half-filled with oats and dried berries. Without even bothering to gather a handful I simply pour a good amount of it into my mouth. The bitter taste is nothing like I expected, but I hardly dwell on it. I swallow and yearn to finish it off, but force myself to reseal the plastic and put it back in the bag.

The second I stand up I feel like something is wrong. My head pounds with every tentative step, but even that I am able to ignore for a minute or so. Then, it feels as if someone had dropped a cement block into my stomach. I am forced to my knees, my arms wrapping around my chest and my eyes closing as everything begins to blur.

I'm not sure how I manage to cut through the physical suffering to come to the conclusion I do so quickly, but the word just pops out in my mind as if it were a flashing red siren. There was something in whatever I just ate. I jam my fingers into my throat, instincts completely taking over my body through the fog in my brain.

My body begins to twitch, and just as suddenly as the awareness had broken through it seems to disintegrate. I feel like a stranger in my own body, hardly even feeling anything except the overwhelming pain that radiates from every inch of my insides. One second I feel like I am on fire, the next my body shakes with the nonexistent cold.

I wrap my arms around myself, one hand going to wipe the sweat from my face. I realize as soon as I do it isn't sweat at all, it's blood. My jaw trembles and at this point I don't think I would be able to say whether I am crying or not. I couldn't even say which way is up, my vision is spotted in blurs of green and red that I cannot even try to place.

My stomach lurches upwards and I can feel something running down my chin. I pray that it is whatever I ate, but the pain that wracks my body won't even allow me to hope that I am going to be alright.

I'm not sure why but my mind begins to travel back to District Three, back to my home and family. I can't stand the thought that they're watching me right now. I want to tell Aleah to look away. This isn't how she is supposed to remember me, her big sister. I want to say how sorry I am for putting them through this.

If only I could speak I would say all of these things, but as my body begins to numb I can do nothing but cover my face and hope that the pain will end.

* * *

_**Danican Tobin, District Three **_

_**Jalissa Kessey, District Three**_

* * *

**Song: Fistful of Tears by Maxwell.**

* * *

**A/N: Well it's here, the final four. Only one more will have to fall before the finale will begin. It's been a fast ride, but hopefully as rocky, emotional, and suspenseful as I tried to make it. **

**A big apology and thanks to Meg and Ace, who sent me the District Three sweethearts. Honestly neither of these two should have even been in the Hunger Games, they're just too cute. They were both a joy to write for fairly similar reasons, but they were just too kind-hearted in the end. Even with Danican's big 'betrayal' and Jalissa's escape from Verden. I couldn't live with writing either of them as a Victor, but may they rest in peace. **

**Reviews have heavily lacked which is expected but unfortunate. I'm going to try and power through these last couple arena chapters and then the epilogue in the next couple of weeks. Anyone that is still reading and/or reviewing, you're beautiful and I love you. **

_**Out of our four remaining tributes, who do you think will not make it to the finale?**_

_**Who do you **_**see**_** as Victor? Who would you **_**like**_** as Victor?**_

* * *

**Pretty much that's it for this chapter. Next one shouldn't be too long, though I do have quite a bit of work to do (school never quits...). Eh, I write best under procrastination anyway. **

**Another mention, just in case there is anyone that still hasn't seen. My next story, **_**All Eyes, **_**is now accepting tributes! It's a bit (a lot) AU, but I hope you'll all give it a chance and at least think about submitting!**


	29. Lightning

**Seconds by U2**

_Lightning flashes across the sky,  
East to west, do or die._

* * *

**Arena Day Ten**

* * *

**Verden Arell, 16, District Nine**

* * *

My first instinct when I see the barrel of a gun appear in front of me is to duck.

Crouched on the ground, with my head thrown protectively to the side, hopefully hidden away from a clear shot through the tree branches, I wait for the telltale sound of gunfire. I count to five in my head, but the sound never comes. I peer through the branches and see that there is no one there.

For a second I am convinced that I am simply going insane. That moment of stillness, even as I contemplate my sanity, is enough to save my life for another second. I am able to hear the footsteps break through the tree line and send my body to the ground just in time to avoid being taken down.

The second I find the handle of the gun in my waistband I flip around to face my attacker, the barrel of the gun pointed directly at her. Then I notice her hands are also holding a gun, pointed straight at my chest. I am on the ground, clearly in the more vulnerable position of the two of us, and yet she doesn't shoot right away.

I pounce on that as soon as I recognize the uncertainty in her eyes.

I know that I could shoot her easily, before she even realized what had happened she could be dead on the ground. I am not a perfect shot but I don't think I would be able to miss from this close range. Her feet are only a very short distance from mine, and I reckon that there is barely seven feet between us. I could shoot her and it would be over in a second.

In the back of my mind, though, I know that I shouldn't waste the bullet. I opened the gun up a few nights ago and saw that there was only one of the little metal spheres left inside. If I use it on her then I won't have this easy out the next time I find myself in this sort of situation. I decide to jump on her uncertainty and find another way out.

"Aren't you going to shoot me?" I ask in an innocent voice, making sure to lock her gaze in mine.

She eyes me for a moment, her gaze flickering between my face and hands. If she thinks I'm trying to distract her so I can shoot her, she's dead wrong. Dead being the key word here, of course.

Finally she answers me in a hushed voice. "Aren't you going to shoot me?"

"Maybe," I throw back. "But probably not. I'm not a monster you know."

The sarcasm is evident in my voice, but I can see that my words hit her hard. I furrow my brow, not quite understanding what it is that I said that had an effect on her. I see weakness, though, and I know that I have to capitalize on it. If it goes to shit, well I could always shoot her.

I continue. "You're not going to hurt me are you? That doesn't look like something you could do. I'll bet you've just been hiding out since this whole thing started. Keeping the gun just because it looks pretty, am I right?"

"You know nothing about me," she says flatly, but her eyes give her away.

I smile. "You're right. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Verden Arell."

She says nothing and I am beginning to think I might not get anywhere with her. Then it hits me, who she is. She doesn't look much different than she did in training, long dark hair and eyes like daggers. "Santana, right? District Two."

"You didn't think I'd remember you, hm?" I continue, seeing the slight fall of her face when I say her name. She was one of the few I had been looking at recruiting for my alliance, but it was clear from early in the training day that she was set on staying with the boy from her district, Connor, and that quiet boy from District Four. "You and Connor and the other boy were allies if I remember correctly. Where are they, did they run off?"

I see her flinch at the mention of Connor's name. A smile creeps across my face when I remember seeing his face in the sky a few nights ago. He's dead, the boy she was so eager to ally with is gone. That's the weakness.

"Oh that's right," I say, pouring mock sincerity into my voice. "He's dead. It's a shame you couldn't save him. He was such a nice guy."

"I killed him," she says firmly, the hand holding the gun remaining steadily pointed at me. The way she says it makes me want to take a step back. She killed her ally?

"Oh, so we're not all that different," I say, forcing a smile onto my face despite the sickness that washes over me when I think about my own ally. "I've killed six people and you're no better than I am. No one else seems to understand this game. No one but you and me, Santana."

"I'm nothing like you," she says, and I can see the anger clouding in her eyes. I have to be careful with what I say. I don't want to make her angry, that might make her lash out, I need to just get her mind off that gun. I need her to think too much so that when the time is right I can get up and unarm her before she can even think to pull the trigger.

"That's where you're wrong," I say, forcing the smile off of my face. Her stance remains strong, but the emotion is all but dripping from her face. In all honesty I don't think we are much alike at all. She feels the guilt for what she has done and I am numb to my own. That's where I am better than her, because I do not have a weakness like this that could take my mind out of the moment.

I do not have an opponent in Santana. She is nothing but an obstacle standing in my way. A soft, guilty obstacle that will be so easy to step over. As soon as that gun is out of her hands there will be nothing left to save her from me.

* * *

**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

* * *

"That's where you're wrong."

I swallow thickly, trying to force myself out of these dark thoughts. I am nothing like Verden. He is the monster not me. He's trying to toy with me, just like I'm sure he did with the other six people. I never did this. I never made them suffer. I'm nothing like him because I don't enjoy this. The result is the same but I'd like to think that it counts for something that I've never killed anyone with a smile on my face.

I want to shoot him right in his smug, little face. I keep my gun trained on him as if I were considering doing it, but only I know that I cannot take the chance. I never checked the gun after I grabbed it from Connor. I don't even know if it's loaded anymore. I can't risk shooting a blank, not when he has a gun pointed at me as well. I need another way out, I can't take this chance it's far too risky.

Then suddenly I see Verden on his feet and running straight at me. I am too slow to react, shooting the gun just a second after he tackles me and firing it into the sky. The air is knocked out of me as I hit the ground and he lands on top of me. I push up with all of my strength and to my surprise I am able to knock him off of me. His fist lands on the ground beside my head far too close for comfort.

I throw my hands over my head to protect myself and kick out wildly with my legs. I land one kick somewhere on his lower body before I feel a fist hit me in the stomach. I gasp and my body is stunned for a moment, allowing another punch to land itself on the right side of my jaw.

I roll myself over onto my stomach and push myself up off of the ground. Verden is too slow to react and I am able to find my way to my feet before he can pull me back down again. Pain radiates from every place that he managed to hit, but I take off in whatever direction I am facing. If only I can get far enough away I can lose him in the trees and find somewhere to hide.

Something knocks me to the side and I don't even have to look behind me to know that Verden has been easily able to catch up to me. I lose my footing with the impact and stumble for a few feet before I find myself back on the ground. I can see Verden's shadow over me and I try to crawl away, unwilling to waste the time to get back on my feet.

I am bracing myself for another hit, but instead I hear quick footsteps followed by a loud grunt from behind me. When I turn around I see not only Verden behind me, but also Venice.

Verden is on the ground at Venice's feet, shielding his face from Venice who kicks out at him wildly. Verden pushes one foot out and trips Venice, sending him down on top of him. The two trade a couple punches, fighting to trap the other one underneath them. I stand, frightened into inaction, and watch as Verden finally manages to straddle Venice.

I hear a sickening crack as Verden's fist connects with Venice's nose. That is enough to shock me back into reality and I rush forward, knocking Verden sideways off of Venice. He throws a punch towards my head but I this time I am able to see it coming, dodging it enough that it only clips my shoulder. I lash out with my own fist, but it barely has an effect on him.

I only notice that his hand is at his boot when I see the glimmer of a knife out of the corner of my eye. He slashes at me with it and I, on first instinct, reach out with my right hand to block it. The pain as the blade cuts deeply into the back of my hand is almost nonexistent with the adrenaline and I grab the top of the knife handle with both hands.

I realize quickly that I am losing the fight for the blade, but I hold on for as long as I can to allow myself time to think of another plan. My mind is racing, searching every crevice of my brain for some idea of what I'm supposed to do to get Venice and I away from Verden. The knife slips from my grip, cutting the inside of my hand which I am able to feel almost fully. I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from screaming.

The sound of gunfire barely registers in my ears as I try to scramble backwards to avoid the attack I am certain is coming. My eyes are locked on Verden as I try to anticipate what his next move is going to be. His eyes go blank for a second, but I don't think much of it until a moment later he falls forwards. His head lands face down just a foot from my legs, a bloody bullet hole in the middle of his brown hair.

I look above him, confusion probably evident in my expression, to see Venice standing just three feet away with his eyes closed and a gun in his hand. His arms tremble and when he opens his eyes they are wide with fear. I want to reach out and touch him, anything to show him that I understand.

"Venice," I choke out, the deep set relief threatening more tears.

He looks up at me suddenly as if only just realizing that I am here. Then his expression changes, fear turning to disgust but not at himself. He drops the gun onto the ground in front of him and begins to back away.

"Don't say anything," he says, and his voice tells me that he means it. I say nothing and watch helplessly as he runs out of the clearing, leaving me with a million more questions than I had had before.

* * *

**Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven**

* * *

As soon as the anthem begins to play my eyes snap open and turn up towards the sky. I don't know how many more of us there are left in here, but it can't be that many. I wish that I would have thought to keep some sort of tally, though I'm not sure how I would have done that without anywhere to write things down. Right now there is only one face I am looking for in the sky, and I have yet to see it.

I am torn with whether or not I want to see August's killer in the sky at all. I want so badly to be the one that is able to witness his last breath with my arrow burrowed deeply in his black heart. I want him to realize what he took not just from August but from me. He was my friend, and if we wouldn't have met by these circumstances I think there would have been a chance at more. I've forever been the girl to go for the bad boys, but August was like no one I have ever met before. Every bone in his body was kind, every word he spoke was genuine. That is hard to come by in District Eleven where everyone has been taken past breaking point and back again.

I still cannot imagine how someone like him could have ended up in this hell. When the Hunger Games were first announced it was rumoured throughout Eleven that only rebels would be chosen, but I can't picture August as a rebel. Not that I can picture him as a Capitol supporter either, but I imagine that he was one of those people that remained out of the fighting throughout the war. I never respected those people, but even imagining August as one of them I do not lose any respect for him.

He was one of a kind, a boy filled with kindness in a world with so much evil in it. I wanted to protect him and live in the perfect bubble that he seemed to create around the two of us. Just by the way he looked at me I knew that he couldn't know me for who I am, because he admired me in a way I would never deserve. I didn't realize how much I wanted someone to expect nothing but good out of me until I experienced it.

Now, I don't think I could ever happily go back to the way things are at home. My parents expect rebellious, back-talking Eileen and Hayden, well, he expects the sneaky, sarcastic Eileen. I don't want Hayden or my parents and their built expectations no matter how much I deserve them. I want August who looked at me like I could do no wrong. I want to prove his expectations right and no one else's.

But if I do that I'm going to die. It's that plain and simple.

My thoughts of August distract me from the sky show, and I barely catch a few seconds glance at the only portrait that shows up. Tears come to my eyes when I see him- the boy that took August away from me. My body trembles and I hiccup, unsure if the sudden emotion is relief that he's dead or sadness at August's memory.

Finally he's gone. That monster is dead and he deserved it. Even though I know that August wouldn't have wished it on him if he were still alive, I find myself hoping that the boy suffered. Even though I know it's not possible, I want so badly for the boy's death to have mimicked the pain that he caused when he stole August away.

As the anthem fades from the quiet night, the tears find me once again. I hate that it wasn't my hand that took his life away and avenged August, but I'm just so glad he is dead. A monster like that doesn't have any right to exist outside of nightmares, and finally he won't.

"Attention, tributes, attention."

The mechanical voice cuts through the night and makes me flinch, my hand going instinctively to my bow. It takes me a moment to get my heart rate back down once I realize that the voice is not attached to an enemy. I'm unable to put a name to the voice, but it has a very flat, robotic sound to it and every word sends shivers down my spine. I force myself to listen carefully to every word to go over what is said later. If the Capitol is choosing to speak to us now after such a long time then it must be something extremely important.

"Congratulations are in order for our remaining tributes," the voice continues. "After ten days of survival and courage, only three of you are still standing. Ensure that you get plenty of rest tonight, for tomorrow one of you will overcome the odds to become victorious. Goodnight and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour."

* * *

_**Verden Arell, District Nine**_

* * *

**Song: Seconds by U2.**

* * *

**A/N: Whoops this took longer than expected. I kind of got consecutively hit in the face by school and work which threw off updates a bit. It wasn't too late so I hope I'm forgiven? **

**First off I'd like to apologize to and thank Davi for creating Verden. I bet you never expected what he turned into when you made him, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. He was a lot of fun to develop, but he jumped into the deep end a while ago. In terms of favouritism, well, he was pretty hated by nearly everyone. The fans called for his death and I decided to comply this time. May he rest in hell where is probably going to end up. **

**I really appreciate any and all reviews I get, and I'm very happy that people are still taking the time. I've had a few very loyal reviewers and I am very thankful for them. If you can review, even a line or two, you'd make me really happy. **

_**Are you happy with the final three?**_

_**Who do you think will win?**_

_**Who do you want to win?**_

* * *

**Well next chapter the games will come to an end in the finale. A big congratulations goes out to Eileen, Santana, Venice, and their submitters. I'll say that as of writing this chapter I still do not know who will be winning, so good luck to them all. **

**Also the deadline for **_**All Eyes **_**is in one week! If you haven't already then I'd love it if you would go over and check it out. I'll be starting writing for that story likely between the finale and epilogue of this story, so it'll be VERY soon and I am VERY excited for it. **


	30. Silence

**Machine Gun by Sara Bareilles**

_Maybe times are gonna change,  
Don't just hide in the silence behind._

* * *

**Finale**

* * *

**Santana Belmont, 16, District Two**

* * *

The silence overwhelms me from the moment I open my eyes.

I have felt the stillness of the arena almost every day that I have woken up alone, but today feels different. The emptiness weighs on me as if my body knows that there are only three of us still in here. The energy has changed, no longer tense and frightening but something far more sombre.

I am ready for the end and today might just be that for me. I am exhausted and I am sore and I am so far past my capacity for pain that I just want this to be over. I am prepared for whatever outcome this game ends with so long as it does finally end.

I feel like I should eat something, but I have nothing left. My bag that had contained everything I owned was gone when I woke up a couple mornings ago. Unlike the other mornings, however, today I do not have the will to stand myself up to try and find something in the emptiness that the arena has left to offer.

Will it matter in the end whether I died well-fed or hungry? I don't expect that it will.

I flinch when I absentmindedly touch the deep cut on the inside of my palm. I have replayed the moment that I received it over and over in my mind, realizing that if I hadn't thought to reach my hand out at the last second that I would probably already be dead. It's funny how precarious things can be. Another second of hesitation could have killed me and yet here I am alive and only a little beat up.

I look up at the sky and notice for the first time that the sky is no longer the perfect, bright blue that it had always been when I looked up at it. Today a suffocating grey colour clouds the spaces between the tree branches and the more I stare up at the bleak sky the more I begin to believe that it was never blue at all.

When I look back down there is something strange, though I am not able to place what it could be for a moment of two. The grey cloud drifting across the ground towards me just looks so in place against the dreary skies and the empty feelings. It's only once it gets to be just a couple feet away that I can feel its heat and my forehead begins to glisten with sweat.

Rather than get up and walk in the opposite direction, like I probably should have done, I reach my good hand out and allow the stinging heat to approach my fingertips. The grey tendrils of the cloud has no sooner licked my fingernail when I gasp and pull my hand away. I crawl the few feet around the tree and then get up and start jogging away.

I take a second to look down at my hand while I swerve between the trees, the heat of the fog still at my back. There is a large blistering taking over the entirety of the tip of my index finger, and it still burns like hell. I take a glance back and see that the fog is hot on my trail.

I try and dart to the left to see if I can get away from it that way, but I haven't gone more than a couple feet when the fog reaches out and stops me. I turn to the right and see that the fog has already overtaken that path as well. There is no way to go but the way the fog leads me, I realize. The thought leaves an uncomfortable dryness in my throat.

I get the vague urge to simply stop, but the looming heat over my shoulder keeps me running. I dart through trees, not allowing myself another glance back. I have good reason to believe that this thing is not meant to hurt me, but that could change in a second. If this is going to kill me then I think I'd prefer not to see it coming. This fog is not natural, and I don't just mean the heat that it is creating. It is being controlled, by who or what I have no idea but right now they hold all the cards. I have seen what it can do, and I hardly touched it for a second. I shudder at the thought of what would happen if I was swallowed up by it.

I can feel the fog getting closer by the hot spot it makes on the back of my neck. I speed up my pace, but it just keeps getting closer. I keep running, breaking into a sprint within a few seconds. Tears begin to cloud my vision and I can hardly see anything in front of me, but I keep running as guided by the fog.

I gasp when my foot catches on something and I go flying forward, my arms flailing out in front of me to try and catch myself. The tears in my eyes spill down to my cheeks and in this single moment I am certain that I am about to die a terrible, painful death.

When I open my eyes, surprised more than anything not to feel the burning heat from the fog climbing over my skin, I see a flattened pile of rubble before me. Across the large clearing I can see Venice, his eyes not yet having found me. I push myself up from the ground and look behind me, hardly surprised to see that the fog has not crossed the threshold into the clearing. It has delivered me here, to the final showdown. There is no longer a need for it except to watch as I try to muster the will to fight for my life.

* * *

**Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven**

* * *

I don't even allow myself to stop running when the heat disappears from behind me. With tears in my eyes and adrenaline pumping through my veins I continue running until my foot hits something hard and I fly forwards. My hands small against something that feels like concrete, and when I look down I see that I was correct. Beneath me all I can see is grey rock, flattened into a pile that covers most of the ground around the clearing I have been led into.

When I lift myself up I see that the entire front of my body is covered in dust that matches the colour of the rubble. I clap my hands together against my back, but it does little to remove the dust and small shards of concrete from my skin.

I have hardly gotten over the relief of being rid of the blazing fog when I hear voices that snap me back to the present.

"You helped me," a female voice says, the accusation thick in her words.

It's a male voice that answers her. "I meant nothing by it."

"Then mean nothing again," the girl says back.

The words mean almost nothing to me, but at least I know that I have found my final two opponents. Now that August's killer is dead I have no one left to fear. Well, that's what I have been telling myself anyways. I racked my brain trying to remember the faces that I had not yet seen in the sky, but came up with nothing. No one that had made an early impression on me was still alive. That could mean nothing or everything, I'm not sure yet.

It takes me a moment of scanning before I am able to find the bodies that go with the voices I am hearing. Sure enough, a girl and a boy stand with several feet between them on the opposite side of the clearing from where I am. I am too far away to know for sure, but I do not believe that I remember either one of them.

Then, both at the same time, their heads turn towards me. I am struck by a moment of panic as their gazes strike me all at once, realizing that my mere minutes of animosity are gone. There will be no sneaking up behind one of them for a quick end. There will be no hiding from them while they fight amongst one another. I have been noticed and not only that but I know in that moment that I am the target even though I am furthest from reach.

Without wasting another second I turn around to run back the way I had come. I make it only a few feet before realizing that I am trapped by the burning fog that brought me here and scorched my legs when I didn't match its pace. My skin still itches with the dry toxicity that was left behind from its touch, and I don't dare try facing it again.

When I turn around the other two are already headed in my direction. I gasp, searching around me for a way out even though deep down I know there will be none. It was such a task to bring us here and there is no way that they will allow us to leave until they have their winner. The fog looming at the edges of the clearing are enough warning to know this.

The girl is approaching more quickly, so I turn my bow on her. I fumble with the arrows in the satchel on my back, the racing adrenaline making it difficult to grasp at anything. I am forced to turn all my attention to just getting the arrow in place and by the time I have managed to do this it's too late to make use of my long range advantage.

I throw myself to the side in the last few seconds before she reaches me, narrowly avoiding the knife in her hands that I only just realized was there. I lose my bow as I stumble over the rubble, landing on my feet when I am unable to retain my balance.

I tighten my grip on the bow and launch myself at the girl. She isn't expecting it and I lock my arms around her neck, struggling against her clawing hands to land my arrow on skin. After a few seconds she manages to toss me off of her back, though this time when I stumble I am able to stay on my feet.

I make another run at the girl but this time I am pulled backward by someone much stronger than me. It's not until I see his face in the seconds before I hit the ground that I realize I had forgotten about the boy. I gasp as the air is knocked out of me as my stomach hits a slab of rock on the way down.

My head must have hit on something also because when I look up the cloudy sky spins above me. I reach out with my right hand, realizing in a bout of panic that I have lost my arrow on the way down. There are more in the satchel on my back I remind myself, but my hand seems unable to perform the command of reaching one.

"Just do it before she gets back up," I hear the girl say, but her voice sounds like it's years away.

"You do it," the boy replies.

I have no idea what they mean at first, but then the answer becomes so obvious that I almost laugh. I think I try to scream when pain blossoms in my stomach and my hands pat at something warm on the front of my shirt. The pain is gone almost as suddenly as it appears and for a moment I allow myself to believe that it had all just been some sick dream conjured up by Panem knows what.

"Just kill me," the boy says. "I don't want a part in this."

"You're not going to die a martyr," the girl responds. "I refuse."

"Then we're going to be here a while."

"No," she says. "A fair fight. You against me and the best will win. No favours or debts or anything, think of your family."

The skies swim above me to the tune of the silence between them. The fog is gone and the skies are blue again like I remember them being on the very first day. For a moment I wonder who is really fading, me or the world, but as I listen to the voices around me I know that the first is true. The world is still existing and spinning as it was. Nothing is going to stop just because I am leaving. The thought would have terrified me but I find an odd kind of solace in it now.

"A fair fight," the boy echoes and I hear nothing more.

* * *

**Venice Durante, 18, District Four**

* * *

A second after the words are out of my mouth I turn around and run. Santana is right, just as she was right about killing the other girl before we turned to each other. I do not want to lose, not that I particularly want her to either. Death is the price of losing and I am certainly not ready to face that at eighteen. After the mention of my family I am convinced.

A fair fight to the death. One winner and one loser, right here and right now.

But I am unable to face it right now, that's the problem. I need time to think so I turn around and run like the coward she undoubtedly thinks that I am. I hesitate for a second when I see the fog, remembering its stern warning when it bit at my heels as I ran here. The moment of silence from my own feet in that little hesitation only elevates the sound of Santana's foot falls behind me.

My choice is made and I run straight into the fog.

Only the fog never touches me. It shrinks away from my skin as I run through it creating a path of clean air right through the middle of it. I am surprised that my skin is not on fire, or even that hot when i think about it, but I do not allow myself even one single second more to dwell on the thought. I am not dead yet, not burnt to a crisp by the fog that I am almost certain could kill me, and that is good. I have to focus now on what happens next.

I know that my footsteps are slowing but I can do nothing to calm the raspy breaths that choke their way out of my throat. I force myself to keep moving forward, realizing that I still do not have any more answers about what I am going to do, but I can hear Santana's steps getting closer and closer.

I pivot around at a second's notice to face her. It's not difficult to spot her as she chases my trail through the fog. Grey walls trap me on all sides but one, that one leading me straight to Santana. I cannot stall this any longer and I close my eyes, wondering how much it could possibly hurt to die by a blade.

I hear a rumble followed quickly by a scream and I open my eyes to see Santana being flung to the ground as it quakes beneath her. I brace myself for the possibility of it travelling to me but even seconds later I feel nothing.

Santana's eyes move to me and I can see the moment of fear that flashes across them. Does she think I did that? I wouldn't have even if I knew how. She gets to her feet again within a few seconds and without warning she rushes at me again. This time, for whatever reason, I do not close my eyes.

I panic as her body slams into mine and instincts take over. I spin my body away from her knife and receive only a slight nick on the outer part of my shoulder. At the same time I push her back as hard as I can and send her sprawling forwards to the ground.

I head a thud as she hits the ground and a gasp that slips from her lips a moment later. My arms are still out in preparation for another attack, but she doesn't move. Almost in slow motion I watch as she turns around and half-lays against the grass supported by only one arm. I don't understand what is happening and why the tension has all but dissipated from the air around us.

My eyes travel down to the area just below her chest and I feel sick, sinking to my knees beside her. Her free hand opens and closes just inches from the handle of the knife that sticks out from her body. I feel the desire to reach out and touch her while at the same time the belief strikes me that she might simply disintegrate if I tried.

"Santana," I whisper and for the first time in a long while her name does not awaken an unwelcome, bitter taste in my mouth.

She says nothing but when her eyes flash up at me I immediately I sit back on my heels. Like never before I see the anger in her expression, and even more than that I see the hatred that I myself had felt when I thought of her. I scoot back a few more inches almost unconsciously.

"Santana," I try again and this time her eyes remain locked on the knife handle. She falls from her supporting arm, now lying completely against the itchy grass. I reach out my hand and then bring it back in again. There is nothing more I can do than watch, she has made that clear, and no matter how much I want to close my eyes they remain open.

I am not sure how long we stay there in silence, but I recognize the exact moment that the loneliness sinks into the pit of my stomach and I know that she is gone. I reach out and tenderly take her hand in mine, lifting it to my forehead. The heat of her fingertips against my skin causes my body to tremble. I hiccup amidst the sobs that rack my body, unable to move for fear of losing this last moment with her.

How is it that death can make someone so still before the heat has even vanished from her body?

"Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to join me in congratulating the first ever Victor of the Hunger Games- Venice Durante of District Four!"

I hear the words but they hold no meaning for me. I am locked in this moment with Santana, the thought playing over and over in my mind that she should not be dead at all. I had decided it was going to be me. I had decided that I would never again allow myself to feel the torment of choosing my own life to be more important than anyone else's. I should not have won in a fair fight.

I won simply because this was not a fair fight. I cannot understand why I think that but in the back of my mind I know that it is true.

I gently move place Santana's hand at her side, attempting to blink away tears that come freely anyway. I don't even jump when the whirling sound from above me moves closer. I don't even bother to pry my eyes from her body to see what it is. I feel so very lost in the hurricane of thoughts that assault me, all of them reminding me of the one thing I know for sure.

I should not be the winner.

* * *

_**Eileen Garreti, District Eleven**_

_**Santana Belmont, District Two**_

* * *

**Song: Machine Gun by Sara Bareilles.**

* * *

**A/N: Well that's it, there is the end of the arena chapters. **

**I know that there are still a few unanswered questions, but rather than explain everything to you here I'd like to see if any of you can figure it out for yourselves. Rest assured that everything will be put to rest during the epilogue next chapter. **

**Congratulations to TitanMaddix who graced me with Venice, the Hunger Games first Victor. I enjoyed writing him and though I know that he was not always the star of the show I was able to make a special connection with him. He won for reasons that have been hinted at throughout this chapter, but I think him just as deserving as either Eileen or Santana would have been. **

**Now I apologize to Fin and Cloe, who sent me Santana and Eileen. I can honestly say that there were points this week where each of them was my Victor, but it came down to a the kind of ending that I wanted for this story and unfortunately for them they did not fit that bill. I loved them both and they developed into amazing characters, but tough decisions had to be made. **

**Hopefully you are all happy with the finale. I have never been much of an action writer so I fear that my finales always end up being a bit more psychological than physical. I am happy with the way this chapter turned out and am very excited to hear everyone's thoughts on it. **

_**Are you happy with the Victor?**_

_**What did you think of the finale as a whole?**_

* * *

**I will be posting an epilogue, as well as the tribute graveyard, next chapter which I don't expect will be up for at least a week. That will be the final chapter of this story before I move onto writing **_**All Eyes **_**full time. **

**Speaking of which, there are still three days before the deadline to submit to **_**All Eyes. **_**All the details as well as the form are on my profile!**


	31. Dust in the Wind

**Dust in the Wind by Kansas**

_Dust in the wind,__  
__All we are is dust in the wind__._

* * *

**Fanchon, 28, Capitol Stand In**

* * *

I haven't left the room behind Venice's since the day he was brought inside. I never expected either Caprice nor Venice to be the one who would make it out of the arena. The odds were simply not in their favour and I had allowed myself to silently mourn them as I watched their progress. After Caprice was the first to fall I didn't have much hope left to instil in the boy, and yet there he is hardly ten feet from reach with only a one way mirror to separate us.

I would have been allowed on the hovercraft that went to extract him from the arena had I asked. All three of us were given the option to board, but I was the only one who rejected the invitation. Bette and Pascal had each formed bonds with Eileen and Santana. Both were eager to be the first ones that they would see if it was them that was victorious.

I knew that Venice would not have wanted to see me.

We were pleasant and formal during his stay with me in the Capitol. I helped him and the girl as best I could allow myself without growing attachments to either of them. It was in my mind that they would be dead so I never expected to be looking at him right now.

The boy, Venice Durante, a Victor despite everything I have failed to provide him with. I was ready to let him die and yet he was unwilling to lay down and meet that fate. Every time I look at him it is only with awe. I have failed him in every way that I could have, and yet here he is. A Victor.

"Miss?"

I turn around and see one of the nurses standing at my door. She is not the same one that has been bringing me food and water when I requested it and by the look of the plate on her uniform she is surely in charge around here.

"Yes?" I ask. It has been one of my only requests that I be left alone whenever possible. As Venice's mentor I have already been subjected to more press and annoyances than I can bear. I do not want to answer for all of the actions that Venice has made. Those are his alone to account for.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you," she begins, her voice soft and yet stern. "I have been instructed to bring you to meet someone. I assure you it is of the utmost importance."

I sigh but rise from my chair. They have not been so unkind to bother me on the two days since Venice's return to the Capitol, so I must assume that this is indeed an important matter.

"Follow me," she nods and I do. We only walk across the hall before she opens a door and ushers me inside.

It is a small office, nothing more than what you would expect a doctor's office to be. The walls are white and the window blinds are drawn, but from the cracks between them I can see that it is past nightfall. The person seated at the desk spins around in the chair and I have to hold in a gasp when the light catches his face.

"Sir," I whisper, immediately bowing my head in respect. I cannot believe that the President is the one that called for me and yet there he is, sitting right in front of me. He looks exactly as I expected him to from television, but somehow older.

"Please," he smiles. "Call me Albinus."

As if I could ever look at the most powerful man in all of Panem and call him by his first name. I take a seat in front of the desk when he motions me to do so and wait for him to speak. The last thing I wish to do is offend him by rushing into the reason for my being here.

"I asked you here because you are the one that can best advise me on Mr. Durante," he says finally, his eyes leaving mine as if in embarrassment.

I don't have the gall to tell him that I know very little about the boy. It would seem as if I had not done my job properly, and that is the very last thing I wish for him to think of me. "I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, sir."

I do hope that I haven't offended him.

"He is not happy here," he says, choosing his words carefully. "He has been through a lot, and I wish to make everything as easy for him as possible from here on out."

"Send him home, then." The words come out of my lips before I can think about how they will sound. I know that the statement is what I meant to say, I am just so terribly afraid of coming off as rude. I do not want him to think ill of me, but in this moment I know that I must speak for Venice as well as I possibly can. The President is right, he has been through a lot and he is unhappy. The nurses had little to attend to in the way of injuries save for the broken nose he retained from his fight with the Arell boy. He has spoken to no one except to ask a few questions, and when I heard his voice for the first time since his return I did not recognize it.

"I wish it were that easy," The President sighs. "I promise you that after a few more days I will send him back to his family, but the people I have placed in charge of this event have told me that he is needed for a few more things before we can let him go."

I nod, knowing that he is making these promises to me as Venice's caretaker. I should have done more for him, but the truth is that he didn't need me when he was in the arena. He won without the help that I was unwilling to provide. Now that he is in the Capitol he does need me to advocate for him, and I am finally ready to do that, yet it is now that I am powerless to do anything for the boy.

* * *

**Venice Durante, 18, Victor of the 1****st**** Hunger Games**

* * *

I wish that they would let me out of this room.

I have seen nothing but stark white walls and various people in crisp uniforms since... since whenever I was brought here. I do not remember the exact events that led up to it, only one moment as a man in a red tunic washed blood off of my hand. I know, really without knowing at all, that the blood was Santana's. It could not have been mine, for she never hurt me.

It has been so long since the last person came to my room, or perhaps it is my imagination that tells me so. I am not hungry yet I wish for the woman with the kind smile to walk through the door just so that I will no longer be alone in this place. I do not know where 'this place' is exactly and the only answer I have gotten from the attendants is that I am in a hospital. I am not injured and so I do not understand why I am still here.

I touch the place on my nose, half-expecting the bandages to still be there even though I know they were removed. Was it yesterday that they were taken off? The day before that? I am not sure. There is no clock to tick the hours by and even if there were I would not be able to trust that days had not past as I slept off the medicines they gave me.

The medication has done nothing to dull the pain of the sadness that stabs at me like a million of their tiny syringes at once. My mind is blurry and my thoughts are incomplete, but the terrible aching is still there. Except without the thoughts the feeling is seemingly without meaning. I know to mourn Santana, but that is the only clear thought that I can grasp. So I hold onto it with every ounce of concentration that I have left.

The door swings open and I vaguely recognize the man that steps in to greet me with a wide smile on his face. He motions back to the people behind him, again two women and a man that look somewhat familiar to me, and the four of them gather around my bedside.

"Oh I told them to stop the intravenous this morning," he says and the lisp in his voice is enough to bring his name forward. Julian, my stylist from before the arena, and the rest of his team whose names do not present themselves. He looks over at the other man. "Get a nurse in here to remove it, the boy is half comatose!"

"Oh Venice, you look so much better than when we first saw you," one of the women coos, tracing her hand down my cheek. I wish to slap her hand away, but the limpness in my body allows me to do nothing but groan in response.

"Oh Tula, hush up!" The other woman exclaims, hitting her playfully on the arm. The name sounds familiar but like most other things it seems to lie just out of my grasp. A nurse rushes in and I watch her pull the clear tube from my arm, though I feel nothing. I had forgotten it was even there in the first place.

Julian asks the nurse for help in sitting me upright and I have no choice but to let them. The nurse pushes a pill into my mouth and urges me to swallow. Minutes later the world begins to focus again, though the numbing blanket still sits comfortably over my skin. I can call forth the names of the other two members of the prep team- Ylaine and Garrith- but I still am unable to put a word to the chilly emptiness that burrows deep in my stomach.

"Just like before," Julian instructs his team. "Tula you work on his hair, Ylaine on skin, and Garrith finish getting the garment ready. We only have a few minutes until they need him! Let's get to work!"

I consider asking who needs me and why, but I know by now that I will get no answers by simply asking. There seems to be an unspoken rule that no one let me in on anything that is happening whether it affects me, and I can be sure that it does, or not. So no I do not ask anything. I stay silent, barely feeling what they are doing to me as the tiredness gnaws at my mind.

"Venice?" Julian asks, waving his hand in front of my face to get my attention. When my eyes move to him I see him grimace, the look quickly covered by his usual grin. "I thought I lost you for a second. We need to get you up and dressed. Fanchon will be in to get you in just a few minutes."

The best that I can do is not push against him as him and the others get me to my feet. Oddly enough I feel relatively steady once my feet hit the floor. I allow the women to strip me down and then put me into a grey suit with a blue tie and a white undershirt. I sit down on the bed and by now I am feeling secure enough to put the socks and shoes on myself.

Sure enough, Fanchon appears in the doorway just as Julian told me that she would be. She nods to the prep team and they all leave, Julian giving me a hard squeeze on the shoulder as he passes by the bedside. When they have all left, Fanchon closes the door behind her and walks over to sit tentatively on the edge of the bed beside me.

"Venice," she breathes and just looks at me. "Tonight is important. You are going to be presented to all of Panem as our very first Victor."

The tears come all at once without warning. She puts one hand on my shoulder and I tense. She gets the message and places her hand back at her side.

"I know this is difficult," she begins.

"It wasn't supposed to be me," I say, unsure where the words are coming from. As soon as they leave my lips I understand. The aching pain strengthens, as if cued by the feeling that follows the statement. It all comes back. I had remembered that Santana was dead, that I killed her, but nothing else. Now I know.

"Venice you don't understand," she tries again.

"I understand," I say, clenching my jaw together in a desperate attempt to keep my voice steady. "She was going to kill me. I won by accident. I didn't kill her."

"Your victory was not an accident," Fanchon says, and the firmness in her voice shocks me enough that I remain silent as she continues. "The Capitol wanted you. The fog was meant to block the three of you in. It didn't move for Eileen but they moved it from you when it should have burned you to a crisp. The quake that shook Santana off her feet when she tried to rush at you, and yet never touched the ground where you stood. None of it was accidental, Venice."

I remember all of it. "Why me?"

"It doesn't matter," she says.

"It does," I retort.

"I don't know why, Venice," she says firmly. "I just know that they wanted you. They saved your life and you should be grateful to them for the gift they have given you, no matter the reason."

"They killed her."

I can tell that Fanchon does not have a fancy reply to that. If the Capitol, for whatever reason, saved me then that means that they killed Santana. There is no way of going around that fact and I will not let her even try.

"Look," Fanchon sighs. "They don't tell me much more than they tell you. I watched the finale and I know that this is what happened. I also know that they will be watching you closely because right now you have every person in Panem wondering what you are going to do next. I was told to come in here and make sure that you smile and say nothing bad about anything the Capitol has done. I need you to do that for me."

"You never did anything I needed you to do for me," I say through gritted teeth. "Why would I do anything for you or for the people that killed Santana?"

"Because if you don't there will be consequences. The President is a good man, but right now this is not in his control. They have kept you alive by mercy, but the gift can be taken at any time. You have to pretend that you are grateful-"

"Even if I'm not," I interrupt.

"Even if you're not," she echoes.

* * *

**Song: Dust in the Wind by Kansas.**

* * *

**A/N: Alright well that's the end.**

**I have enjoyed writing this story so much. It has allowed me so much creative freedom than anything else I have written in this fandom. I've grown to love each of these characters for the role that they played in making this story what it is, and I have all of my wonderful submitters to thank for that. **

**I have posted tribute obituaries on the blog. Basically they're just little moments from after the tributes' deaths to show how their families (or in so many cases, lack thereof) have coped. I worked very hard on them and I hope they give some sort of closure to the plotlines you guys have read. **

**I have a final set of questions that I would love everyone to answer if they could spare the time. **

_**Are you happy with the Victor?**_

_**Are you happy with the story as a whole?**_

_**What was your favourite moment?**_

_**Who was the most shocking death?**_

_**Advice for future writing and/or comments about the writing.**_

* * *

**And I guess that is all... I am pretty sad to see this story complete but also insanely happy with how it turned out. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Now I'll be moving onto **_**All Eyes**_** and I hope a few of you will be following me through that as well. I guess this is goodbye to **_**Devils and Dust**_**! **


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